Mr Darcy's Torment
by Holyscrapp
Summary: Horrifying night terrors plague Mr Darcy and he cannot decide which is worse: that ghosts are real, or the possibility that he is going insane. Once he realizes Elizabeth Bennet can see what he sees, his relief is immense...until they discover the true meaning behind the haunting of Mr. Darcy. Regency, a little OOC, a lot supernatural
1. Chapter 1

**Mr. Darcy's Torment**

Chapter 1

The moon was bright and high in the midnight sky, illuminating the gardens with its ancient silvery light. The carefully cultivated hedges and fragrant rose bushes looked surreal in their lunar radiance while the underlying shadows created secret hiding places that would not exist in the light of day. The contrast between light and dark was exaggerated and gave the gardens an unearthly feel. Abruptly, the wind picked up and large grey clouds swept in to obscure the moon. Dark shadows swallowed up the house, like a candle being snuffed out.

On the third floor of the large stone-faced manor, a window was open and curtains were fluttering in the gusting wind. As the temperature in the chamber swiftly dropped, the gentleman sleeping in the large tester bed groped blindly for the counterpane. Being unable to find it, he groggily propped himself up to look for the blanket. He felt an unusual, penetrating chill and suddenly noted that his breath was visible in white puffs. He stiffened in apprehension, now fully awake, and wondered if - nay, fervently prayed that - this was only another bad dream.

On the other side of the bed, he saw a shimmering shape between the half-closed curtains, and he held his breath as it started to take a defined form. As his heart rate accelerated, he felt his lungs begin to burn and he belatedly remembered to breathe, puffing out quick clouds of warm air. He was not a man who was intimidated by anything in life, but this was not a night terror, a figment of imagination. His mind could not rationalise what was occurring and reluctantly he thought, not for the first time, that this apparition was not something associated with the living side of the veil that he himself was currently inhabiting. No, this was something supernatural, something he had never experienced before.

The apparition was fully formed now and appeared to be a woman in a flowing, white nightdress. Her silvery hair was unbound and floated around her like she was underwater, seemingly defying the laws of gravity. The gentleman inhaled sharply and was unaware that he was again holding his breath as the ghostly figure hovered in space and time. She was moving her mouth but he could hear no sound. The look on her face was one of extreme sorrow and pain. He could physically feel the anguish emanating from her luminous form. It slithered through his body, unwelcome and foreign. Raising her arm, she pointed accusingly at him. Her agitation growing, her mouth moving faster, opening wider, mutely yelling, noiselessly keening in her sorrow.

He felt a shudder roll through his body as he broke out in a cold sweat across his forehead, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Anxiety and something akin to panic took possession of his senses as the apparition floated closer, parting the bed hangings with a fierce blast of air. He recoiled and crashed back against the headboard, realizing that he had nowhere else to go. In his shock, he could not form any thoughts coherent enough to launch him out of the bed. She was hovering over the middle of his bed, extending out of the mattress at her waist, the lower half of her body not visible; her face at the same level as his own.

Her bony hand was still reaching in his direction, her finger pointing accusingly at him while her mouth worked in silent screams. Her anguished countenance started to shimmer more intensely, like heat rising from the street on a stifling hot summer's day in London. In an instant, her face transformed into a skeleton, the eyes glowing crimson in the black, fathomless sockets. The gentleman gasped out a strangled cry and every muscle in his body was tense, in anticipation of something even more terrifying.

The apparition swiftly advanced towards him and he closed his eyes to avoid looking at her unearthly figure. He felt the ghost pass through his body with a tingling, burning shock that left him breathless and freezing. And then she was gone. The curtains went still as if the air was sucked out of the room and the clouds receded, allowing the silvery moonlight to once again shine down on the manor and through the third floor window, cutting across the room and penetrating the gap in the bed hangings. The gentleman slumped against the headboard, his teeth chattering, his heart pounding and tried to catch his breath. He knew he would not sleep again this night.

* * *

Mr. Darcy sat at the table in the dining room the next morning, staring at his cup of coffee. The sideboard was filled with a tasty array of food to break his fast but he was not remotely interested. Georgiana walked into the room and greeted her brother with a quiet "Good morning, William." She walked to the sideboard to fill her plate and sighed when she did not hear a reply.

She was still embarrassed and saddened by the events in Ramsgate a few weeks ago and she was desperately afraid that her brother was severely disappointed in her. She even feared that she may have lost his love as well. She knew that his good opinion once lost was lost forever. William had been so quiet and withdrawn since their return. He barely spoke to her and their time spent together consisted solely of meeting in the dining room twice a day.

As she situated herself at the table in the seat on Darcy's right side, Georgiana looked up and gazed at her brother, willing him to look at her. He was still staring into his coffee cup, with both hands wrapped around it. The newspaper was neatly folded in front of him, unread. For the first time, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the bags that were beginning to form there as well. Having not noted this change in him previously, she carefully inspected her brother and discovered that he also appeared thinner. Georgiana felt a deep anxiety as she pondered her brother's change in behaviour and physical presence since their return.

Georgiana cleared her throat nervously and spoke again. "Brother, are you well?" she enquired shyly. William did not acknowledge her question, or even react to her voice.

"William?" she tried again, slightly more forcefully. His gaze remained fixed on his cup of coffee.

"Fitzwilliam George Darcy!" she practically yelled at him, and somewhat mortified at her less than lady-like tone, she dropped her gaze to her lap.

William startled and finally looked up, noticing for the first time that Georgiana was present. He looked pale and troubled. Georgiana had never seen him like this and she was somewhat taken aback. Hot, burning shame crept up her neck as she assumed she was the reason for her brother's altered appearance and emotional withdrawal. William, on the other hand, felt his own shame for not realizing that Georgiana was in the room, let alone that she was speaking to him. He attempted a smile, but it came off as a grimace.

"Good morning, Georgie." His voice was rough and he cleared his throat to gain some semblance of control. The look on his sister's face spoke volumes about how he appeared this morning, although he had no idea about the self-flagellating thoughts that were running through his poor sister's mind.

William thought to himself that he had to get his night terrors under control or he was going to end up in Bedlam. Deep down, he knew that these were not nightmares but could not admit the truth to himself. The truth was not reassuring in this situation. The truth that these nocturnal visits were by a supernatural spirit was even less sane than the possibility of a grown man having the same vivid night terrors for the past three weeks. William was scared. He could not lose his sanity. Who would take care of Georgiana if he was in Bedlam?

"Brother, I am worried about you. What is troubling you?" Georgiana asked. And in a smaller voice, she added, "I hope it's not me."

William winced. Ramsgate was only a few days behind them when these nocturnal visits had started occurring. His anger at Wickham and his fear that Georgiana had been irrevocably compromised had been weighing on his conscience. And then _she_ , _it_ , showed up. He was almost afraid to fall asleep at night now, taking to drinking much more brandy than he normally consumed, just in order to close his eyes in his bedroom. Several nights he had slept on the chaise lounge in his study hoping to avoid the apparition in his chamber. And for a few nights, this change in sleeping arrangements, coupled with an excessive amount of brandy, had done the trick. He thought he was 'cured' and returned to his bed with much relief. Then last night, the apparition appeared again and this time, she was furious and terrifying. He recalled with a shudder the way her face melted into the hideous skull with blazing red holes for eyes. And then it got worse; she had physically assaulted him as she passed through his body. This event marked the turning point of his belief that these were only night terrors. This morning he knew unequivocally that he was being haunted.

William discovered that Georgiana was staring at him, waiting for an answer.

"No, Georgie! This has nothing to do with you. You, I love and adore! Please do not ever forget that." William lifted his hand and placed it over Georgiana's. She flinched at how cold his hand felt compared to hers. She was truly worried about him and she still could not believe that she was the cause of his current distress despite his assurances to the contrary.

Desperately wanting to change the subject so Georgiana would not interrogate him further, Darcy remembered the letter he had received from his friend yesterday.

"Mr Bingley has written."

"Oh, how wonderful! And are he and his sister well? They were so pleasant when we met last summer." Georgiana smiled in remembrance of her time spent with Caroline Bingley.

Miss Bingley had taken her under her wing even though she was much older than Georgiana. Having no mother for most of her life, Georgiana craved female attention. And even though Caroline was not at all motherly, Georgiana thought she was very elegant and knew much about being a lady of the _ton_. As she was shy and dreading her coming out in a year or two, she hoped that she might learn how to emulate Miss Bingley's social prowess and feel more comfortable in society. Darcy, however, frowned in disapproval as he remembered Caroline simpering and fawning over Georgiana. He was aware that this was a ploy to get into his good graces and he was aggrieved for his sister. She was still too naive and good to discern cynical attitudes and behaviour in people. This is why she had been ensnared by Wickham's schemes.

"They are well. Mr Bingley has taken an estate in Hertfordshire and has asked me to visit him. He desires instruction in estate management and wishes me to assist him. I am not sure though that I should leave you so soon after..." he trailed off, clearing his throat, "...our last adventure."

Georgiana paled and looked down at her lap where her hands were grasped tight and white-knuckled. While she wished that their relationship would return to its previous easiness and felicity, she was very concerned about her brother's health. Georgiana thought that some time away from her would lessen the disappointment William felt, and the embarrassment she felt, about Ramsgate. Since she was comfortable with her new companion, Mrs. Annesley, she would not feel so alone at Pemberley without him.

"I think that you should go, William. I am fine here. Mrs. Annesley is a most amiable companion. Please go see your good friend."

William thought on this for a few moments. He did not particularly want to leave Georgiana at Pemberley by herself at this time but he truly feared for his sanity. He was hoping that leaving his estate would also leave the spectre behind and he could recover in the country. He was somewhat unnerved at the thought that the spectre might address itself to Georgiana upon his departure. But he had heard of no such nocturnal visitations from her and he knew that if it had happened she would have told him straight away.

The siblings agreed that William would leave for Netherfield in the morning. Darcy hoped that he would sleep undisturbed tonight and that he would leave the spectre behind for good.

* * *

Fortune fancied Darcy overnight. He awoke the next morning feeling better. In fact, he was feeling hopeful as well, as his nocturnal visitor had not shown herself again. Georgiana found him in the dining room and was pleased to see that he was breaking his fast. She thought to herself that her plan for William to leave Pemberley was already showing results. Aside from his revived appetite, she noticed that his pallor was gone and he looked more like himself than he had in weeks. She sighed in relief. Darcy looked up upon hearing Georgiana enter the room and he smiled at her. She grinned back at him.

They finished their meal together and discussed how long Darcy was to be away. He thought that perhaps it would be a month or two. He was not sure and he encouraged Georgiana to write to her Aunt & Uncle Matlock in London if she grew too lonely and bored at Pemberley. They would be happy to have her visit them anytime. Georgiana agreed, but reassured her brother that she would not be lonely with Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Reynolds, the long-time family housekeeper, to keep her company. In addition, she had stacks of new sheet music she wished to master on the piano. Darcy took her reassurances at face value and knew that if she was unhappy, one of her the two women would write to inform him.

Darcy decided to ride his stallion to Hertfordshire feeling that the fresh air and sunlight would help to preserve his improved demeanour today. His valet, Timmons, would ride along with his trunks in the luxuriously padded and well-sprung Darcy coach. The fresh air and freedom of being on horseback was something Darcy anticipated with some relief. He felt that leaving Pemberley behind temporarily would give him his old life back and he looked forward to the change of scenery.

Georgiana accompanied her brother to the front door and as they walked down the steps together, she reached out and grasped his hand. They walked hand in hand to the coach and his saddled mount and Darcy pulled his sister to him for a hug. He whispered that he loved her and that he would be back in a heartbeat if she needed him. Georgiana squeezed him hard and with tears in her eyes, blew him a kiss as she walked away so he could mount his horse. Mrs. Annesley had come out to the front of the house while the siblings were saying goodbye and walked up to put her arm around Georgiana, supporting her, as they watched the convoy set off.

* * *

 _All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved._


	2. Chapter 2

" _Never rearrange your life in order to meet Mr. Darcy half way. If he couldn't see your worth at the moment you met then he won't two years later." ―_ _Shannon L. Alder_

Chapter 2

The sound of high-pitched giggles and occasional screeching pierced the air at Longbourn. Mr Bennet had long ago sought refuge in his library for the day. Lydia and Kitty were quarrelling over a bonnet, a favourite pastime. Lydia held the bonnet over her head in her hands, ribbons trailing, as she ran about the house with Kitty following directly behind. Mary sat at the piano trying to ignore them as she practiced her most recent musical acquisition. Jane was sitting in the parlour with Mrs Bennet working on the weekly mending.

Elizabeth was ignorant of the morning's current events although she was not unaware of her family's foibles. She had escaped to the outdoors earlier and was just now returning to Longbourn after her walk to Oakham Mount. Tipping her head up to feel the sun more fully on her face, she revelled in the beauty of the autumn morning. The leaves were gloriously coloured and she was free to run and jump and be herself while enjoying time alone. Elizabeth sat beneath her favourite tree and read her book uninterrupted for close to an hour. She broke her fast with a biscuit and an apple she had swiped from the kitchen on her way out. But as all good things must come to an end, Elizabeth had to return to the chaos of her home.

As she neared Longbourn, Elizabeth could hear the commotion caused by her two youngest sisters and her mouth turned down in a frown. All five Bennet girls were out in society despite Lydia being full young at fifteen and Kitty only two years older. It was unfortunate that her father had not exerted more effort in reining in his youngest daughters, but Elizabeth loved her father and could not be too harsh on him. Mrs Bennet had done nothing to encourage proper behaviour in Lydia and it was quite obvious that she favoured Lydia and overindulged her. Kitty, ever Lydia's shadow, followed her silliest sister emulating her childish behaviour. Elizabeth could not recall a time when Jane and she had ever been that ridiculous, although it had been a few years since those two lovely ladies had left their adolescence behind. As the Bennet sisters were often touted as the 'jewels of the county', most of Meryton accepted them, silliness and all.

Entering the house through the front door, Elizabeth untied her bonnet and removed her pelisse wincing at the noise her sisters were making. She headed towards her father's study and knocked in a staccato rhythm. Hearing his command to enter, she slipped through the door, dampening the sound on the other side of the house as she closed it tight. She leaned up against the door with the knob in her hands behind her back and sighed rather loudly.

"I could not commiserate more, my Lizzy! Mrs Bennet often speaks about her nerves but I say, this morning it is _my_ nerves that are in spasms from the behaviour of my silliest daughters." He grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose, as a particularly loud crash was heard and sounds of dismayed "awww's!" were followed by more screeching.

Elizabeth walked beside the bookshelf trailing her hand along the leather spines. She loved the smell of the library and cherished her time with her father, whether spent in conversation or just companionable silence while they both read. Today she spied the chessboard and solicited her father for a game. It had been many weeks since they had sat down together. Her father readily agreed and soon they were embroiled in a battle of wits. Mr Bennet had taught his Lizzy all that he knew about chess and she had soon caught up, and almost surpassed the master, in skill. He had to be sharp and utilise all his strategic acumen if he wanted to win.

His beloved daughter was a quick study and her clever mind absorbed knowledge as fast as she could consume it. He had done his best to tutor her and sometimes felt a little niggle of guilt and disappointment that he did not care to go to London. There, he could have given her time to study with masters and allowed her to blossom into a truly accomplished lady, but his dislike of town overrode his guilt and so in Hertfordshire they stayed. Mr Bennet turned his full attention to the game and saw that Elizabeth was only two moves from check mate. Regrettably, he saw that he was not to be the victor today. He smiled proudly at his favourite child and when she won, he offered her a handshake over the chessboard.

He leaned back in his chair, folded his hands at his waist, and asked, "Lizzy, have you heard that Netherfield has been let?"

"Yes, papa." Elizabeth wrinkled her nose in disgust. "How could I not? It is all my mother has been talking about lately." Mr Bennet chuckled.

"I met with Mr Bingley yesterday to make his acquaintance, a most amiable young man. But please do not inform your mother yet, I wish to prolong the suspense a little longer."

Elizabeth smiled at her father's mischievous nature, but her smile did not quite reach her eyes. Secretly, she wondered how her parents had arrived at this ambivalent relationship after 23 years of marriage. She knew that her parents held some affection for each other, but there was also a certain disregard in the way Mr Bennet often treated his wife. It was rarely perceptible in public, but it was very noticeable at home. When she was younger, Elizabeth would giggle at her father's antics, mostly because he was her hero and she thought everything he did was admirable.

As she had grown older and more perceptive, she was cognisant of her parent's problematic and awkward marriage. The happy marriage of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner was evidence that two people in love and full of mutual admiration could work together as equal partners. It was this marriage that Elizabeth considered exemplary. She was adamant that she would only be induced into matrimony by the deepest love and nothing less!

That evening at supper Mrs Bennet rhapsodised over the new tenant at Netherfield. She was unwavering in her demands that Mr Bennet make haste to visit him. Her unrelenting proclamations about how fate had given her five daughters and no sons were heard on a regular basis, so much so that no one paid much attention to them anymore and tonight was no exception. Mrs Bennet looked at every opportunity to exploit any advantage that would aid her in the pursuit of suitable, and preferably rich, husbands for her daughters. Sir William Lucas had already met with Mr Bingley and Mrs Bennet could not allow Charlotte Lucas or any other young lady to have the upper hand.

"Mr Bennet must get an introduction or else you girls will never meet Mr Bingley and Charlotte Lucas will have time to curry favour with him." She paused thoughtfully for a moment and then gloated, "Although Charlotte is much too plain to be considered competition for my beautiful Jane!"

Jane blushed at this statement and glanced at Elizabeth across the table who was smirking at her older sister.

"Jane, you must know that you are the most beautiful and the most agreeable woman in all of Hertfordshire, perhaps all of England. Do not be so demure!" Elizabeth was in earnest about the character and beauty of her eldest sister, but she enjoyed teasing Jane about the constant exaltation of her excellent qualities by their mother.

"Lizzy, I must lovingly refute your claims. You are just as beautiful and the most caring of us all," Jane stated.

"La! You two know nothing!" Lydia brashly declared. "For I am the _most_ beautiful and lively of all the Bennet sisters and will soon be overrun by suitors when the militia arrive!" she boasted. Kitty giggled at her sister's statement prompting Lydia to join her.

Elizabeth looked down the table at her father with a severe look but his head was lowered in concentration on his meal. She frowned and glanced at Jane who also looked appalled by Lydia's comments. Elizabeth resolved to speak with her father about curbing Lydia and Kitty's enthusiasm before the militia arrived. Mrs Bennet complimented and cooed at her youngest daughter, detailing her own youthful escapades with the militia before she was a married woman. Elizabeth frowned again at her plate and thought that no good would come from this. She just hoped that her father would take her advice to heart.

Mrs Bennet suddenly remembered that she had not received a promise of a visit to Netherfield from her husband and practically screeched at him, "Mr Bennet! Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for _us_ to visit him if you do not."

"You are too fastidious, surely. I dare say Mr Bingley will be very glad to see you and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls, though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy." Mr Bennet winked at his favourite daughter.

"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-natured as Lydia. But you are always giving _her_ the preference."

"They have none of them much to recommend them," he replied, "they are all silly and ignorant like other girls, but Lizzy is more clever than her sisters."

"Mr Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves."

Mr Bennet snorted and stood up to leave the table. "You mistake me, my dear. I have the utmost respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them countless times these last twenty years at least." And he left the table to return to his library.

"Ooooh, Mr Bennet!" declared Mrs Bennet forcefully.

Elizabeth and Jane looked at each other; the former rolled her eyes and the latter dipped her head down to hide her smile.

* * *

Mr Darcy had been at Netherfield for almost a se'ennight and to his great relief, found no repetition of the night terrors that he had suffered at Pemberley. He had caught up on his sleep and his appetite had returned. In fact, he was feeling much like his former self and even the disappointment he felt about the entire Ramsgate incident had not returned full force, so great was his relief to be rid of his nocturnal visitor.

Unfortunately, his good mood was decidedly quashed as Bingley announced that night at supper that they would be attending the monthly assembly at Meryton the day after his sisters arrived. Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst, in the company of Mr Hurst, were to arrive at Netherfield the next day and Bingley had made plans for the group to meet the neighbouring populace at the local assembly. He had been introduced to Mr Bennet last week and since then had heard nothing but praise for the beauty and character of his five daughters on his visits throughout the village. He was eagerly anticipating finally witnessing this beauty for himself on Friday evening.

Darcy did not wish to attend for several reasons. Being thrust into society with which he was unfamiliar was almost physically painful for him. And moreover, Bingley's unmarried sister had recently begun a blistering campaign to become the next Mistress of Pemberley, which meant that any dancing with her would automatically be misconstrued and twisted to forward her lofty goal. Shuddering at that thought, he made a mental note to never be left alone with Caroline during his stay at Netherfield. He did not doubt that she would orchestrate a situation in which she might accuse him of compromising her, forcing a marriage. Darcy had been in society long enough to develop an uncanny discernment for scheming by marriage-minded mothers and fortune-seeking daughters and in response, was very practised in the skills necessary to evade them. He would not let Caroline get the best of him!

Mr Bingley's sisters and brother-in-law arrived the following day. When he announced his plans to attend the assembly, Caroline's shrill voice could be heard throughout the house belittling her brother's plans.

"Charles," she started condescendingly, "certainly you would not have us subjected to the poor society here, would you? Why, they are _farmers_ , Charles! I am sure that none of them have ever even been to London, let alone have any sense of style or good manners. Why anyone would live out here, I could not say!"

Darcy thought to himself, _She will be sorely disappointed as the Mistress of Pemberley! Not that that will ever happen!_ He shuddered at the inconceivable prospect.

Preferring to spend most of his time at his country estate, he did not enjoy town as much as those of his social circle. He wondered at her ignorance of this and pondered her hypocrisy. Her desire to lift herself up in society, to prove that her family was no longer tainted by trade, had overcome her good sense and turned her into a scold. Well, that and the fact that she was firmly on the shelf at nine and twenty. She was grasping at anything in her desperate attempt to make a good match. Even with her dowry of twenty thousand pounds, she had not found a gentleman willing to offer for her.

 _I really ought to speak to Charles about increasing Caroline's dowry_ , Darcy mused. It was high time his friend pushed his ill-mannered sister out of the nest. He almost snorted at his unintended pun as he glanced at Miss Bingley's headdress, resplendent in garish feathers.

* * *

The night of the assembly arrived and the Netherfield party made their way to the assembly hall after a significant delay caused by Bingley's sisters. The quarrelsome ladies attempted to postpone the departure of the entire party by claiming they needed additional time to ready themselves. But in reality, they were sitting in Miss Bingley's chamber, voicing their complaints about all that they would have to endure for the evening and conspiring to create an excuse to convince Charles to leave the assembly as soon as possible. Due to their contrived delay, the assembly was in full swing when the Netherfield party arrived. Their appearance coincided with the end of a set and they entered the room just as the musicians finished the song. As they passed through the door the crowd hushed and all eyes were focussed on them.

Darcy stiffened in embarrassment and disdainfully looked over the room making eye contact with no one. While the Netherfield party descended the stairs onto the main floor, he heard whispered words such as "very eligible gentleman" and "ten thousand a year". He let his haughty mask make its appearance on his face in an attempt to display an aloof and detached manner, concealing his discomfort. In the past, this unpleasant mien and general air of scornful arrogance was effective in repelling most attempts at approaching him.

Much to Darcy's chagrin, the very pleasant nature of his friend Bingley, which was almost always agreeable to Darcy, was working against him tonight. Bingley was most effusive in his greetings and wishes to meet his neighbours leaving no choice but for a frustrated Darcy to follow behind. Sir William took Mr Bingley's happy manners as a sign that the entire group was similarly inclined. Had he actually taken the time to observe the others, he would have seen the truth quite clearly on their faces. Since Sir William was very affable himself, he did not look beyond Bingley's own amiability and eagerness and proceeded to escort him to where Mr Bennet was standing with his wife and daughters. Mr Bingley's face lit up when he recognised Mr Bennet and he took note of the beautiful young ladies standing in close proximity. He would finally get his introduction to the jewels of Hertfordshire.

He greeted Mr Bennet and bowed with a smile and was then introduced to Mrs Bennet. When Mr Bennet presented his eldest daughter, Miss Jane Bennet, Charles was struck dumb by her beauty and had difficulty attending to the introduction of the remaining sisters. He blundered his way through it and Miss Bingley rolled her eyes and huffed. This was not lost on Elizabeth, who had been observing the rest of the Netherfield party during the introductions, and she arched one delicate brow in amusement.

While Darcy did not particularly wish to socialise he could not completely ignore the dictates of comportment and gave a perfunctory bow. He had no desire to befriend a family of five daughters from the lesser gentry and all of marriageable age at that. He noticed Bingley staring dazedly at Miss Bennet and so made an effort to examine all the sisters more closely.

Sir William introduced Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy found himself pinned by a pair of sparkling hazel eyes as their gazes collided. He felt time slow and the music and chatter fade into the background as he admired her brunette curls, her creamy complexion, her light, pleasing figure, and her engaging smile. Elizabeth felt his intense gaze lingering longer than it should and blushed prettily as she dropped into a curtsey. Mr Darcy bowed slightly and then stalked away from the party without a word or introductions to the remaining Bennet sisters.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at his retreating back and thought that Mr Darcy was rather vain and condescending in his attitude. Though she could not deny that he was handsome! He was tall and broad-shouldered and his dark brown curling hair set off his warm chocolate eyes quite nicely. If she was honest with herself, she found him extremely attractive and felt a warmth steal through her body as she admired how fine his muscular thighs appeared in his breeches as he made haste to leave their group. Her chestnut curls bounced as she shook her head slightly in an effort to regain her thoughts. She felt flustered and struggled to get control over her mind and body. How unfortunate Mr Darcy appeared to be so unpleasant because the rest of him was very agreeable!

Darcy was just as unsettled by his own reaction to Miss Elizabeth. He had been introduced to many beautiful and fashionable women in society over the years. Why would he feel anything when meeting this country miss for the first time? She was not dressed in the first stare of fashion, nor was she as classically beautiful as her sister, Miss Bennet. Yet, his heart had sped up when he met her brilliant gaze. His discomfort at these feelings caused him to swiftly flee the Bennets and he was ashamed at how he had run away in a display of less than gentlemanly manners. It could not be helped, however. Darcy was in no mood tonight to ponder a pair of fine eyes and the pleasure they could bring. He was irritated with the whole evening and barely had the patience to be civil let alone closely examine his physical reaction to some poor provincial girl.

After the set was over, Elizabeth made her way to the refreshment table for a glass of lemonade. She wandered away from the table with her drink in hand and looked out over the dancing couples. Jane was partnered with Mr Bingley and fairly glowed with happiness. Elizabeth smiled to herself and thought that perhaps her deserving sister might have found a beau. Charlotte was dancing as well, which was encouraging, as the ladies usually outnumbered the men at the assemblies. Elizabeth found Miss Bingley partnered with Mr Darcy who looked like he might have swallowed a lemon. Holding back a giggle at his expression, Elizabeth appraised Miss Bingley's burnt orange dress. While she could not deny it was not the height of fashion in cut and design, the dreadful colour was extremely unflattering.

Elizabeth loved to laugh at the ridiculousness and follies of others and Mr Bingley's sisters provided many opportunities. She found herself attempting to sketch the characters of the Netherfield party and was closely observing their behaviour. Mr Bingley was kind and good-natured with a ready smile, a stark contrast from his sisters and brother-in-law. Miss Bingley was aloof and condescending, while her sister and her husband, Mr and Mrs Hurst, exhibited obvious signs of ennui and kept mostly to themselves.

Mr Darcy's behaviour was not exempt from Elizabeth's character study and so far, his conduct was regrettable. Despite his rudeness, and all attempts to ignore her feelings, she realised she was attracted to him. Being stubborn in nature and uncomfortable with her newfound feelings, Elizabeth wanted to discover all of Mr Darcy's foibles. Perhaps observing more of his flaws would supersede his appeal and allow her to forget him. She spotted her quarry standing awkwardly a few feet away. Hoping to catch some fragments of conversation which she might relate to her father for their later amusement, Elizabeth drifted closer to Mr Darcy who was now speaking with Mr Bingley.

She heard her mother's voice in her head chiding, " _Listeners never hear any good of themselves"_ but easily shrugged it off. The chance of gleaning some sheer folly uttered by the haughty Mr Darcy heavily outweighed any slight she might hear about herself or anyone else. Edging as close as she could to the gentlemen without overtly breaching propriety or attracting their attention, Elizabeth angled her body away from the men somewhat so as to appear as nonchalant as possible while eavesdropping.

"Come Darcy, you have yet to dance tonight. There are so many pretty girls present. Surely you could stand up with one of them?" Bingley kindly scolded his friend

At the low rumble of Darcy's smooth baritone in reply, Elizabeth felt a tremble of pleasure shoot up her spine from the vibrations of his voice. He declared somewhat irritably, "Charles, you are dancing with the only handsome woman in the room."

Elizabeth felt the weight of his compliment to her sister Jane and was pleased that such a gentleman of consequence as Darcy, even as disagreeable as he was, had acknowledged Jane in such a way. A dazed, faraway look and a gentle smile reflected Bingley's adoring thoughts as he contemplated the lovely Miss Bennet.

"She is an angel. The most beautiful creature I have ever met! But look, there is her sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is very pretty. You should ask her to dance."

Darcy did not even look in Elizabeth's direction. "She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me," he scoffed hoping to bring to an end to Bingley's attempts at pressuring him to fraternise.

Elizabeth had just lifted her glass to finish off her lemonade when she overheard Darcy's offensive comment. She inhaled sharply and choked on her drink. The violent coughing caught Darcy's attention and his scowl deepened as he observed Elizabeth gasping for breath and attempting to regain her decorum.

"Return to your angel, Charles, and let me be," Darcy admonished. Bingley shook his head knowing that his friend was in one of his moods and there would be no reasoning with him. He moved away to find his 'angel' again.

Elizabeth stared openly at Mr Darcy in astonishment. He _had_ to know that she could overhear his comments at this close proximity. At that moment, Darcy looked up and met Elizabeth's gaze. The scowl on his face was replaced by his haughty mask again. Her rigid posture indicated unspoken displeasure and he watched in fascination as she wrinkled her nose like she smelled something rotten, lifted her chin in the air, and stalked away from him.

Admiring her figure, Darcy watched her skirts swish as she departed. He had observed the reproachful expression on Miss Elizabeth's face before she left and wondered what caused her features to darken and glare at him so openly. He vaguely remembered that she had been coughing forcefully during his conversation with Charles. Replaying the events in his mind and reviewing any remarks that might have been overheard, he grimaced when he recalled that Miss Elizabeth's coughing spell and his ill-tempered comment about her attractiveness, or lack of, coincided.

Darcy felt no little mortification that he had been caught making such an unpleasant comment about a lady in public. He recognised that he had, several times this night, behaved in a manner in which no real gentleman would comport himself. He sighed heavily as he absently twisted his signet ring on his finger. Even if he did not want to be here, there was no excuse for indecorous conduct. Moreover, he did not really mean what he said about Miss Elizabeth. He had employed hyperbole in order to halt Bingley's bothersome entreaties. In truth, he found her especially agreeable and that was the whole crux of the matter. Darcy was determined to regulate his behaviour for the rest of the evening. He was, after all, a gentleman. It was with this thought that he decided he must offer an apology to Miss Elizabeth.

As Elizabeth stalked away from Mr Darcy in search of more _tolerable_ company, she found Charlotte on the other side of the room. Elizabeth sat in the chair next to her dearest friend and related her provoking encounter with the dour gentleman. Mr Darcy's behaviour was not exempt from Elizabeth's sharp wit and she described what she had observed when he was partnered with Miss Bingley.

"Mr Darcy looked miserable, poor man." Elizabeth concluded her story sarcastically, thinking that he did not deserve any sympathy after his outright insolence all evening.

Charlotte bantered, "Miserable he may be, but 'poor' he certainly is not."

Elizabeth directed her gaze to her friend, her delicate eyebrow arching into its familiar position, "Oh?"

"Ten thousand a year and they say he owns _half_ of Derbyshire," Charlotte answered Lizzy's unspoken question.

"The miserable half?" Elizabeth snorted.(1)

When she realised that her friend did not chuckle as usual at her witticism, a feeling of dread came over her. Charlotte was looking over Elizabeth's shoulder with a peculiar look on her face and Elizabeth just _knew_.

"He is behind me, is he not?" she whispered.

The corner of one side of Charlotte's mouth twitched in an effort to suppress a smile and Elizabeth knew she was caught. She schooled her features and turned around at the sound of Mr Darcy clearing his throat. Meeting his gaze directly, she was surprised to find that his haughty mask was gone and in its place was almost an expression of amusement. Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows impertinently, waiting for him to speak.

"Miss Elizabeth, shall I have the honor of dancing the next set with you?"

That was not what she expected. Shocked, Elizabeth could only nod her head in acquiescence. Darcy bowed and walked away. She turned back to Charlotte who now was freely displaying her astonishment with her eyes opened wide in surprise. Elizabeth's mouth was slightly agape and she was still at a loss for words. She had no idea why she accepted. Perhaps, in her shock, the only thing she could remember to do was answer politely in the affirmative.

Charlotte watched the play of emotions over Elizabeth's face and wondered at her normally steady friend's reaction to the very male Mr Darcy. Even more intriguing was his reaction to Elizabeth.

Looking out over the crowd, she commented, "Lizzy, Mr Darcy had a peculiar reaction after being introduced to you earlier, do you not think?"

Elizabeth followed her friend's gaze and found the subject of their conversation staring out one of the windows, his hands behind his back. His posture was straight and showed his height and masculine attributes to particular advantage.

"Peculiarly rude, yes. To what do your thoughts tend?"

"I am not quite sure honestly. I just noticed that he gazed at you a bit longer than proper, had a curious expression on his face, and then quickly fled to the other side of the room," Charlotte replied. "And now he has asked you to dance; the only woman who is not in his party. Lizzy, that is a great honour indeed."

Elizabeth had lost track of their conversation as her focus had drifted to the gentleman in question. As she sat admiring Mr Darcy, she observed how his hair curled slightly to touch his collar and wondered what it would feel like if she ran her fingers through those curls. "Soft," she sighed out on a barely audible whisper. _It would feel soft and luxurious_ , she thought.

Charlotte looked at her friend with amazement as she heard the longing sigh escape Elizabeth's lips. Charlotte snickered and Elizabeth's gaze shot back to her friend.

 _Oh lord!_ Elizabeth exclaimed to herself, _Did I say that aloud?_ Her hands flew to her face to hide her heated cheeks and she leapt out of her chair. Charlotte looked up at her with a knowing look, noting her flushed countenance.

"Lizzy, are you feeling well?"

Even if Charlotte was unaware of her immodest thoughts about Mr Darcy, Elizabeth was embarrassed at being caught neglecting the conversation. She tried to deflect any further attention from herself, hoping that her friend, the one person besides her sister Jane who knew her best in the world, would let her curious behaviour pass without comment.

"Yes, I am well. So sorry, Char, I was wool-gathering." Her cheeks still aflame, Elizabeth willed herself to calm down.

Her friend sat smirking in amusement and speculating on the burgeoning attraction she observed between Lizzy and Mr Darcy. _This ought to be interesting,_ Charlotte mused.

Darcy returned to Miss Elizabeth's side before the promised set and felt somewhat giddy at the prospect of standing up with her. He hoped that the dance would be one in which they would have time to talk. He needed to apologise and he found himself wanting to converse with her more. Her impertinent remark about his possession of the "miserable half of Derbyshire" had almost made him chuckle out loud. She was definitely not like the other ladies of his acquaintance and this intrigued him.

He offered his arm and anticipated feeling the weight of her hand as she accepted. She lightly laid her hand on his arm causing a tingle to erupt and Darcy stared at where their limbs were entwined. Finally perceiving that she was looking at him in anticipation, he led them to the centre of the floor to line up. Darcy was in luck as they were to perform a country dance in longways set. With so many couples lined up it would take considerable time to execute each move, leaving him with many minutes to speak with Miss Elizabeth.

He took a deep breath and started speaking, "Miss Elizabeth, I have not shown very good manners this evening. I was not feeling like myself earlier when we were introduced and I had to move away to get some air." She harrumphed in reply.

Darcy felt like his cravat was strangling him as he spoke, but he forged on. "I am afraid that you overheard some asinine comments that I made in reference to your comeliness while I was speaking with my friend. I apologise most heartily and I beg your pardon."

Elizabeth met his earnest gaze and acknowledged his apology with a regal nod of her head. She could not believe that the great Mr Darcy had deigned to offer an apology. His willingness to analyse and accept responsibility for his comportment indicated that he might be unlike most gentleman of the _ton_. People of consequence and wealth were often pompous and self-aggrandising. They frequently refused to accept responsibility for their bad manners putting the blame wholly on those who they deemed unworthy, especially the lower classes. Her first impression of Mr Darcy was that he was one of these self-centred and pretentious people.

They turned their attention back to the dance as it was their turn to lead as the active couple. They grasped inside hands and proceeded down the set and back. At the touch of their gloved hands, Elizabeth felt the heat emanating from Mr Darcy's own. It pierced the protective layer of her glove and imprinted itself on her palm; it was all she could focus on. Darcy was fighting his own battle as Elizabeth's scent wafted around him. She smelled like fresh spring wildflowers and he found it extremely appealing. How they made it back to the top of the set, neither could easily recall.

Darcy felt as though he was still not forgiven and wished for Elizabeth to smile at him the way she did earlier in the evening, before he had so abruptly cut and run during their introduction. He decided to try and broach the subject of his ill behaviour again to make it clear that he did not find her unattractive. Why this was so important to him he did not wish to contemplate closely at the moment. He only wanted to correct his mistakes and spend time with her.

"Mr Bingley has been most persistent in his harassment of me all evening due to my refusal to dance. Honestly, I have been in no mood for society these past few weeks. I made those comments in the hopes that Bingley would cease his prattle. I find myself uneasy with those whom I am little acquainted. It is often difficult for me to start a conversation with strangers or enter in the middle of one that is already occurring."

Elizabeth looked at him askance. "And no one can be introduced in a ballroom?" she mocked, the twinkle in her eyes softening the sting.

"Touche! I suppose that if I took the time to practise then I would be more proficient." A small smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

Elizabeth could not help herself as she smiled in return. The fact that he was willing to seek atonement by apologising and explaining his behaviour to her made her reconsider her original prejudice.

He started again, "My object was to show you, by every civility in my power, that I was a gentleman and not as discourteous as I first appeared. I hoped to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that I was remorseful of my actions towards you. "

"'All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong, and repairs the evil. The only crime is pride.'" (2)

Darcy's eyes bored into hers with amazement, as he looked at her with a new found respect. "You quote Sophocles, Madam?"

Elizabeth smiled mischievously and hurried off to perform the next step of the dance, a back-to-back with the person standing next to her. She maintained eye contact with Darcy across the set and a look of understanding passed between them. They finished the dance and parted with mutual civility and a mutual desire of meeting again soon.

* * *

(1) Dialogue from the film _Pride_ _and Prejudice_ (2005).

(2) Quote from _Antigone_ by Sophocles

 _Text and dialogue was directly and slightly modified from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (1813)_

* * *

 _All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Elizabeth hummed a tune as she walked towards Netherfield. She vaguely recalled it was something Mary had been practicing for the past few days. As much as she was enjoying the exercise and the beautiful weather, Elizabeth was vexed at her mother's imprudent machinations. Sending Jane to Netherfield on horseback prior to the start of a torrential downpour was pure foolishness and now Jane was paying the price. Mrs Bennet's constant fretting over the marital status of her daughters was a plague of biblical proportions and Elizabeth concluded that it ranked somewhere between the swarm of locusts and the festering boils.(1,2)

Her booted foot slipped in the thick mud as she stepped down on the other side of the stile in the fence. She stumbled forward, catching her balance and righting herself before she fell over. This caused her to drop her skirts, dragging them through the mud before she could gather them up again. She tut-tutted at the brown mess ringing her hem and then shrugged. There was no help for it now. Netherfield was in sight.

* * *

Miss Bingley sat at the table breaking her fast and admired Darcy behind his newspaper.

"Mr Darcy, do you not agree that Miss Bennet's arrival in a rainstorm on horseback yesterday smacks of country ignorance? For people who proclaim such a singular affinity for the land they cultivate, they do not demonstrate much common sense. Even I could see the ominous appearance of the sky portended bad weather," she jeered.

Darcy refused to disparage the Bennets in accordance with his promise to himself the night of the assembly. He had resolved to behave as a gentleman for the remainder of his stay in Hertfordshire. Unfortunately, Miss Bingley willfully misinterpreted even the most fundamental courtesies paid to her so he had decided to interact with her as little as possible and only with the necessary civility due the sibling of a close friend.

Miss Bingley was not deterred by Darcy's persistent silence and she had just taken a breath to attempt to engage him in conversation again when Elizabeth was announced. Darcy dropped his newspaper and sprung from his chair at attention, eyes flying to the doorway. Miss Bingley rolled her eyes in exasperation and then widened them in astonishment, her mouth agape, as she spied Elizabeth with soiled skirts and windblown hair, her bonnet dangling from her hand.

Elizabeth's hair had come loose from its pins and tumbled down her shoulders in thick chestnut waves. Her skin was flushed under a glistening sheen of perspiration and her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as a result of her recent exertion, displaying her feminine assets to an advantage. Darcy tore his gaze from her chest after he realised he had spent an inappropriate amount of time looking in that direction and lifted his eyes to look at her face. Her hazel eyes, bright and clear, glittered with a vibrant energy as she acknowledged the room's occupants with a hasty curtsey.

Darcy was stunned by her wild appearance and barely remembered to bow. He immediately recalled his comment from the assembly when he declared her not tempting enough and he felt much regret at that unfortunate remark. How could he have ever said such a thing? She was magnificent! His body tightened in response to the vivacious woman in front of him. Luckily for him, he had grabbed his serviette from his lap to keep it from falling on the floor when he jumped up, and he still held it in his hand. He strategically positioned it to hide the evidence of his swift and unexpected desire. He continued to stare at her, unable to speak as he basked in her loveliness. Her presence in the dining room was like the sun shining in all its glory on a summer's day.

Elizabeth regarded the room's occupants with barely concealed impatience. She did not want to waste time with the social niceties when she could be at Jane's side. The awkward moment continued for Elizabeth as she waited for someone to direct her to her sister. She noted that Mr Darcy was staring at her, most likely offended at her appearance, and Miss Bingley was now scowling at her after her initial surprise.

"Miss Eliza, did you _walk_ here? Does your family not own a carriage?" Miss Bingley mocked.

Elizabeth bristled, "Of course we own a carriage, Miss Bingley, but I enjoy the exercise."

Footsteps echoing in the hall alerted Elizabeth to someone's approach. Mr Bingley entered the room and upon spying Miss Elizabeth, his face lit up in a genuine smile. Elizabeth greeted Mr Bingley and curtsied again. She enquired about Jane and was relieved that Mr Bingley offered not only his reassurances about Jane's health but his escort to her chambers. Failing to politely take her leave of the room's occupants, Elizabeth quickly followed Mr Bingley without another word.

Darcy was still greatly affected by the encounter and stood staring at the empty doorway. He was astonished at the depth of feeling he had just experienced. He did not realise that his life had been so lonely and grey until this instant.

And then that wonderful feeling was shattered by the return of the petulant sound of Miss Bingley complaining.

* * *

Bingley led Elizabeth down the guest wing corridor and stopped in front of Jane's chamber door. He explained apologetically, "She has been very feverish, I am afraid, Miss Elizabeth, and not well enough to leave her room. According to my sister, Miss Bennet did not sleep well last night. I am quite sure that with her loving sister at her side she will recover her health quickly."

Elizabeth smiled warmly at him. "Thank you for your kindness and hospitality, Mr Bingley. I am sure that if my sister were able to tell you herself, she would be very grateful." Mr Bingley blushed.

"Please give my regards to Miss Bennet. I wish her a swift recovery so that we may all become better acquainted while you are my guests. If either of you need anything, anything at all, just ask." He bowed and turned to leave.

Elizabeth watched him walk down the hallway and thought that his regard for Jane's comfort and health indicated more than just polite interest. She smiled knowingly as she quietly entered the sick room.

Jane lay in the big tester bed, almost swallowed up by the soft bedding and mattress. She looked very pale, even lying against the white sheets. Two red spots flushed her cheeks indicating that she was still feverish. Elizabeth sat by her sister's side in the chair that was left by the previous caregiver and gently stroked Jane's brow, sweeping stray hairs into some semblance of order. She noted how hot and dry her sister's skin felt and how parched her lips were. A basin full of tepid water sat on the nightstand to her right and Elizabeth wasted no time in dipping the soft cloth in and applying it to Jane's brow.

Jane's eyes fluttered open and it took a few moments for recognition to come. She smiled softly at her sister and croaked out, "You came."

"Yes, dearest. Nothing could persuade me to stay away, not even Caroline Bingley."

Jane made a little moue of displeasure. "She and Mrs Hurst have been very kind, Lizzy."

Elizabeth assisted her sister to drink sips of water. Jane settled again on the pillow and Elizabeth noted the fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead. She found Jane's hand and held it comfortingly and recalled some of the more silly discussions that took place between the siblings since Jane's departure. Due to the recent rain, the big tragedy in the Bennet household was that Lydia and Kitty were trapped at home and could not go to town. Jane chuckled at her sister as she rolled her eyes at the thought of their youngest siblings.

A few minutes into Elizabeth's narrative she observed that Jane was once again asleep, her breathing a little laboured but not unexpected for the severe cold from which Jane was suffering. After she had ascertained that Jane's health was only somewhat worse than expected and confirmed that her sister was comfortably sleeping, Elizabeth headed to the library to look for a book to read.

As she descended the stairs, she realised that she had no idea where the library was actually located. She had been to Netherfield before, but it was so long ago that she did not remember the specifics of the estate's layout. And while her beloved Longbourn was a sizeable estate, Netherfield was larger, making it easier to lose one's way. She looked around and did not see any servants or any of Netherfield's current residents and so set off to discover the whereabouts of the library for herself.

Elizabeth headed down a dim corridor and saw a woman at the other end. She was wearing a dark cloak and her red hair was trailing down her back, drawn up on one side with a silver hair comb. Hoping the woman could aid her in locating the library, Elizabeth called out to catch the woman's attention but she did not stop or acknowledge that she heard. Elizabeth hurried to catch up with her and just as she was within a few feet of the woman, she turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Frustrated, Elizabeth called out again, "Miss, I am in need of some assistance! Could you please direct me to . . ." She did not finish her sentence but abruptly halted mid-stride as she turned the corner. Stretching before her was a completely empty hallway except for a cloud of fine mist that was rapidly dissipating. Elizabeth was alone.

Initially irritated by the woman's refusal to stop, Elizabeth was now utterly perplexed by the woman's sudden disappearance. She had heard no doors opening or closing. There were no alcoves or places to hide. She could not imagine that the woman had been able to walk, or even run, the entire length of the hallway in mere seconds. Elizabeth had practically dashed down the corridor in her haste to catch up with the woman and had nearly caught her before she turned the corner. How could she vanish so quickly and where did she go?

Elizabeth took a few steps forward and stopped dead in her tracks as she felt a swirling cold swiftly envelope her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand up. A frisson of fear and a foreboding she did not understand clambered through her body causing her heart to race.

Without warning, a high-pitched shriek shattered the silence. Elizabeth jolted violently and her hands flew to cover her ears as the inhuman noise pierced the air and echoed down the corridor. Never in her life had she heard a sound like that! Her body stiffened in panic; all rational thought scattering like leaves in the wind. She was cognisant only of a compelling need to flee.

Gingerly lifting her foot and taking a tentative step backwards, she put her hand out to touch the wall, attempting to anchor herself to reality. She cautiously took a few small steps, backing away from the cold spot, her hand behind her, blindly sliding along the wainscoting of the wall. After what seemed an eternity, Elizabeth felt the corner of the wall juncture and abruptly spun around with every intention of sprinting down the corridor and as far away as possible from whatever it was she had just experienced. As she pushed off at a dead run, she rounded the corner and crashed into something hard and unyielding. A strangled scream escaped her throat and she was sure her heart would explode out of her chest.

Mr Darcy was jolted by the violent collision and startled at Elizabeth's cry. He grabbed her by the backs of her elbows as her palms splayed on his chest and her forward momentum caused her to topple into him. They stood mere inches apart, their breath mingling and their hearts pounding in unison. Hers, due to the terror she had just experienced. His, due to the close proximity of the object of his fascination. As Elizabeth hesitantly opened her tightly clenched eyes, she looked into Darcy's own, warm and brown, and filled with concern.

Immediately recognising the signs of fear in Elizabeth, his hands dropped and encircled her in an embrace meant to offer comfort. She was pale and trembling, her pupils were fully dilated, and she was gasping for breath. These symptoms were like old friends to him as he had seen them many times reflected back from his mirror in the middle of the night after a visit from his nocturnal apparition. He wondered what had frightened her so dreadfully.

"Miss Elizabeth, are you well?"

Her thoughts were jumbled and she was slow to form a response. She could feel his body heat and his large hands burning through the thin fabric of her dress, even through the added layers of her chemise and petticoat. A warm, citrus scent penetrated her fear and the hard grip of anxiety finally let loose. Her muscles relaxed and she lowered her heels from the tip-toe position she was suspended in, dropping her forehead to rest on his chest. She let Darcy support her weight, grateful that he was with her.

She inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm her breathing and was subjected to his masculine scent once again. This fragrance, mixed with his male essence, created a scent that was uniquely him. Elizabeth had never been this close to a man before except for her father. It was simultaneously shocking and exhilarating. Her heart started beating swiftly again, but this time in awareness of the handsome man who was holding her in his arms.

"Miss Elizabeth?" She pulled her head up away from his chest and discovered that Mr Darcy was looking at her quite intently, concern mixed with apprehension.

"Uh . . ." She moistened her dry lips. Darcy watched in fascination as her pink tongue darted out to caress her full lips, his eyes fixated on her mouth. "Y-yes, I am well. I was, uh, looking for the library."

Darcy was silent, waiting to see if she said anything more. Truth be told, he was thoroughly enjoying their present position and did not want to part with his lovely but panicked armful of a woman.

As Elizabeth calmed and became more aware of her surroundings, she realised the very compromising position in which they were standing. While she knew the circumstances were quite innocent, others would undoubtedly see a passionate embrace and a lover's tryst. She let her palms slowly slide down his chest before letting them finally drop to her sides. Darcy's gaze caught hers and she saw something in his eyes that made her shiver in awareness. Elizabeth attempted to back away and create some space between them. Her thoughts were a flurry of confusion. The preternatural distress she had experienced, along with her physical encounter with Mr Darcy, was utterly overwhelming. _He_ was overwhelming.

Darcy made an effort to tamp down his desire as he reluctantly let her back out of his embrace. She was right, of course. They should not be standing in such proximity and in a position of such familiarity. Many couples had been forced to marry for less.

His curiosity as to the cause of Elizabeth's panicky flight kicked in full force and he asked, "Miss Elizabeth, what happened to give you such a fright?"

Knowing that she had no plausible reason to explain her unusual behaviour, Elizabeth chose to ignore his question outright and redirected the conversation to her quest for a book to read.

"I was on my way to the library in search of a book. Unfortunately, I found myself turned around and unable to find it. I would kindly appreciate your assistance if you could point me in the right direction, sir."

Disappointed, Darcy realised that he was not going to receive an answer at present and escorted Elizabeth to her desired destination. Deciding to stay until she completed her task, he picked up the book he had left on the side table last night and sat on the sofa. He opened the book pretending to read while surreptitiously watching Elizabeth deliberate over her choice of book. Of course, he had been in this house for almost six weeks and had already memorised all the titles in Netherfield's meagre collection and knew that there was little of interest and even less that would necessitate lengthy contemplation to make a choice. There were so few books that they had been left in two stacks instead of being properly shelved.

Feeling flustered, Elizabeth absent-mindedly shuffled through the books trying to organise her thoughts in regard to the previous events. She was acutely aware of Mr Darcy sitting in the room. All her senses were attuned to his physical presence behind her and she was having a difficult time concentrating on anything other than him. Sighing in frustration she finally grabbed the first book on top of one of the stacks without even checking the title.

"Thank you for your kindness, sir. I am going to return to my sister." And she swept out of the library.

Darcy closed the book he was not reading and thought about all the strange events of the morning. He was beyond curious about what had frightened Miss Elizabeth. Her fear was authentic, but he was unable to determine what had occurred to cause such visceral panic. He sat quietly thinking for a few minutes until he recalled that he was supposed to meet Bingley in order to ride out over the estate.

Darcy stood up and strolled to the mirror over the fireplace to see if anything was out of place after his encounter with the distressed damsel. Adjusting his cravat in the mirror, he saw movement over his left shoulder and just caught a glimpse of a strange woman with red hair. She was wearing a green cloak, walking through the dimly lit room behind him. A silver hair comb winked in the light from a narrow sunbeam passing through the window. He stiffened and sharply pivoted around only to find the room empty. The door to the library was closed and there was no other way out. Darcy blinked a few times and rubbed his hand over his face. Deciding he had imagined it, he left the library to seek out Bingley hoping a hard ride through the countryside would clear his head.

* * *

Elizabeth entered quietly through the door of Jane's room and saw that she still slept. Alone in the room for all intents and purposes, Elizabeth fell into the chair in a most unladylike manner and attempted to gather her wits. Sighing forcefully, she let her head fall to the back of the chair feeling completely drained. She had rationalised that the woman in the hallway must have turned the other corner just as she had entered from the other end. Perhaps the mystery woman was not supposed to be there and had run when she heard Elizabeth call out to her. Whatever the cause, Elizabeth determined that the woman had not just vanished into thin air since that was impossible. She chuckled under her breath.

What disturbed her most, and what she could not easily explain away, was the inhuman shriek, the sudden cold, and the sense of foreboding that had crept over her after the woman disappeared. Elizabeth revisited the timeline of events and upon further consideration, she recalled that Mr Darcy was in the vicinity at the same time and did not respond in any way to the scream that Elizabeth heard. He should have heard it too. And yet, he had clearly asked her what had caused her fright. She frowned, wondering if he had heard it and was pretending he did not. She should have asked him when they spent that few minutes alone in the library.

Thinking about being alone with Mr Darcy in the library led her back to her whole encounter with him from start to finish. After colliding with him in the hallway, Elizabeth found herself sagging into him with relief. She was so overcome by fright that when they collided she was not even aware that it was him. His heat, his scent, his strong arms wrapped around her waist...she fanned her face with her hand. _Why is it so warm in this room?_ she groused to herself.

Thinking about how it felt to be held in his arms, she could no longer ignore her own sensual awakening. It lay dormant without provocation until he arrived. Now that she was conscious of her sensuality, she knew that she was definitively changed by it. Elizabeth, the woman, was finally aware of the thrilling appeal of a man, and that attraction was unmistakable and staggering in its potency.

A knock on the door interrupted her introspection and the Bingley sisters entered in a rustle of silk and competing perfumes. Jane roused at the commotion and asked Elizabeth to assist her in sitting up so that they could visit.

"Dear Miss Bennet, how are you feeling?" Miss Bingley enquired with a genuine smile. Elizabeth was taken aback at the true kindness she saw in Miss Bingley.

"I'm afraid I am still feeling poorly, Miss Bingley. I am sorry to have to continue to impose on your hospitality."

Mrs Hurst replied, "Miss Bennet, please be assured that you are not an imposition. We just wish to see you well as soon as may be."

The sisters stayed for a while discussing the latest fashions and gossiping about the _ton_. Elizabeth listened politely but soon found her mind drifting and eventually she moved away to the window seat where she picked up the book she had selected from the library earlier. As she opened the cover and read the title, she was pleased to note that it was _Hamlet_. Twenty minutes later, Elizabeth looked up from her book and saw that Jane was drifting off to sleep. Miss Bingley offered to send up a lunch tray and the sisters left to eat their own luncheon in the dining room.

When the tray arrived, there was also a bowl of broth for Jane, and Elizabeth woke her sister in the hopes of encouraging her to take a few spoonfuls. Jane was obedient and Elizabeth was pleased. Not soon after, Mr Jones, the apothecary, arrived to examine Jane and declared that she was the victim of nothing more than a violent cold. He recommended that she stay abed and promised to send some draughts later. After he had departed, Jane stated that she was feeling poorly again and Elizabeth helped make her more comfortable and she was soon asleep. Her feverish symptoms returned shortly and Elizabeth sat at the bedside applying a damp, cool cloth to diminish them.

Jane was discomfited and mumbling in her sleep. There was occasional thrashing of limbs as well and this concerned Elizabeth somewhat. About mid-afternoon, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst returned to check on Jane.

Elizabeth marvelled at their goodness until she heard Miss Bingley say, "This day has been dreadfully dull without Charles and Mr Darcy. How long does it take to survey this miserable property, honestly?" Her tone of aggravation was easily discerned.

Elizabeth thought to herself, _No wonder they have been so attentive! There is nothing to amuse them, and Miss Bingley seems especially put out that Mr Darcy is not attending to her._

Despite this revelation, Elizabeth had to admit that Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst did find genuine enjoyment in Jane's company. And who would not? Jane was sweetness personified; never an unkind word for anyone passed her lips. This was in stark contrast to Miss Bingley, who appeared to take great joy in belittling those she felt were beneath her. Elizabeth had come to the conclusion that that was just about everyone Miss Bingley had ever met except for Mr Darcy and his sister.

Around three o'clock, Elizabeth determined that propriety dictated she not continue to encroach on her host's good will and that she should return to Longbourn. She was loath to leave Jane as she was still feverish and unsettled.

"Miss Bingley, I am afraid that I must leave for home. I thank you for your kindness and compassion in caring for Jane. I will return tomorrow if that meets with your approval." Elizabeth stated half-heartedly.

"Oh Miss Eliza, I would not wish for you to walk back home. I am sure your petticoat would not survive another trouncing through the mud." She snickered at this, recalling how dishevelled Elizabeth looked upon her arrival this morning. "I insist that you allow me to call for our carriage to convey you home."

"That is very kind but unnecessary, Miss Bingley. It is only a three mile walk to Longbourn. There is no need to go to the trouble of arranging the carriage for me."

"No trouble at all, Miss Eliza. I am resolute in my offer."

Elizabeth reluctantly agreed and turned to check on Jane once more before leaving. She noticed that Jane was awake and she reached out, clutching Elizabeth's hand tightly.

"Lizzy, please do not leave me alone just yet. I have only been comfortable and able to rest while you have been at my side today," Jane whispered due to her sore throat.

Miss Bingley, on hearing the pitiful plea of her accidental guest, grudgingly offered to have Elizabeth stay at Netherfield until Jane was well enough to return home. The offer was gratefully accepted and Elizabeth wrote a short note to her mother asking her to send a valise of necessary items and fresh clothes for a few days.

On her way back to Jane's room after dispatching her note to Longbourn, Elizabeth was a few feet from the door to her chamber when she kicked something hard with her foot. The impact caused a metallic clang and sent it sliding across the hallway and under a side table. Attempting to retrieve it from its final resting place, she squatted next to the table and reached out to grasp it. A dark shadow loomed over her and she heard a sharp, "No, Miss!" Elizabeth recoiled her hand quickly and shot to her feet.

Standing next to her was a young woman about the same age as herself. She was dressed as a lady's maid and had a severely anxious look on her face. Elizabeth's hand was laying flat across her chest, feeling her heart pounding from being startled.

"Miss, I am right glad you did not see fit to touch that cursed object."

Elizabeth cocked her head curiously at the woman and arched an eyebrow in a bewildered expression. She looked down at the object she had kicked across the floor and saw that it was a beautiful, ornate silver hair comb. Elizabeth felt a jolt of recognition and was sure it was similar to the one that the mysterious woman in the hallway was wearing this morning. She wondered at the maid's choice of words.

"Why do you say that it is cursed?"

"Oh, miss! It is surely cursed and so is the poor human being who has the misfortune to pick it up." The maid wrung her hands at this proclamation, her brows knit in consternation.

"What is your name?"

"Och, so sorry, miss! I am called Brigid. Miss Bingley sent me to assist you in dressing for dinner."

"Well then, Brigid. Let us return to my room and you can tell me all about the 'cursed object' while you are assisting me." Elizabeth smiled, a teasing glint in her eye. In truth, she had little need for a lady's maid but she was extremely curious to hear about the 'cursed' hair comb.

After she had freshened up and changed her gown, Elizabeth sat down at the vanity and submitted to Brigid's ministrations to her hair. As she found her hair to be uncooperative on most days, Elizabeth wore it very simply. She was looking forward to seeing what Brigid could do to tame it. While she was brushing it out, Elizabeth broached the topic of the silver hair comb again.

"Brigid, I am curious. What did you mean when you said that the silver hair comb was a 'cursed object'?" Elizabeth smiled slightly, attempting to hide her amusement at the phrase.

Brigid stopped mid-stroke, the brush still in Elizabeth's hair, and met her mistress's eyes in the mirror with a serious expression.

"Oh no, Miss! You must not tease about the curse. And you most certainly should not pick up strange hair combs lying about on the ground!" Brigid realised she was supposed to be brushing Elizabeth's hair and so she resumed her task.

Elizabeth waited impatiently for the maid to elaborate and after an interminable time, opened her mouth to prompt further discussion. Before she could utter any words, Brigid spoke again in hushed tones.

"Have you ever heard of the legend of the _bean sidhe_?"(3)

"I do not think I have."

"You may have heard tales of the banshee, then?" Brigid asked.

Elizabeth had read many legends in her short lifetime but she could not recall anything related to the topic of the banshee. She shook her head in the negative as the two women looked at each other in the vanity mirror.

"They say that the _bean sidhe_ , the banshee, is a fairy whose keening is an omen of death. They can shift forms but most often they appear as red-haired women in a dark cloak, wearing a red, green, or grey dress, with a silver comb in their hair." Elizabeth gasped.

Brigid, startled by the sound, accidentally pulled Elizabeth's hair who winced at the brief, but sharp pain. Brigid apologised profusely. Now wild with curiosity, Elizabeth needed to hear more.

"What other forms can they take?"

"They may also appear as an old woman with long, grey hair, and rotten teeth. The banshee is always a woman but her dress may be white or grey, and she may have long, pale hair which she sits and brushes with the silver comb." Brigid stated dramatically. Elizabeth gestured impatiently to her to continue.

"It is said that the banshee's cry predicts the death of a family member." She paused for a heartbeat. "Seeing her form or hearing her keening means a death will occur in the family or that the person hearing the banshee's wail will die, sometimes as soon as the next day."

Elizabeth felt a shiver run up her spine. Wanting to return to the topic of the 'cursed object', Elizabeth asked, "So you think that the silver comb in the hallway belongs to a banshee?"

"No, Miss, I _know_ it belongs to a banshee and picking it up is considered very bad luck! The Irish believe that the banshee leaves a silver comb on the ground to lure innocent souls to their doom. No one in Ireland ever picks up a silver comb lying on the ground!" Brigid insisted fervently.

Elizabeth sat thoughtfully while Brigid finished styling her hair. The maid's description of the banshee fit perfectly with the appearance of the woman she encountered in the hallway this morning; the woman who vanished mysteriously. And immediately after aforementioned vanishing, came the inhuman shrieking sound. Was that what keening sounded like?

Brigid took her leave of her mistress who was so preoccupied that she did not notice the maid's departure. Elizabeth did not regard herself as particularly superstitious. She considered herself well-read in science and the classic Greek myths among many other subjects. However, she still had several unanswered questions relating to the incident with the red-haired woman wearing the silver comb. _Is there another explanation? A more rationale one? There must be!_ Addressing her reflection in the mirror, she chuckled nervously to herself in the empty room.

* * *

A/N:

(1) _King James Bible_ , Exodus 10:12

(2) _King James Bible_ , Exodus 9:8

(3) In Irish folklore, the _bean sidhe_ is a spirit or fairy who is a harbinger of death. She keens or wails a warning that a family member is about to die. She can take several forms but is often seen with long streaming hair and dressed in a dark cloak over a green, grey, or red dress. Her eyes are fiery red from the constant weeping. If multiple banshees wail together, it will herald the death of someone very great or holy. The Scottish version of the banshee is the _bean nighe_.

* * *

 _ **Thank you to EvelynRo for proofreading my chapter!**_

 _Text and dialogue was directly and slightly modified from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (1813)_

* * *

 _All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Finally dressed presentably for supper after the muddy hem debacle from earlier in the day, Elizabeth went downstairs to join the others, her head full of the particulars about banshees. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst politely enquired as to any improvement in Jane's health, but after receiving a brief answer in the negative, they promptly moved on to other topics. Elizabeth was perturbed at how fast their concern waned when the gentlemen were present.

Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were in attendance and both asked after Jane's health. When Bingley heard that Elizabeth was to stay and nurse her sister, he was quick to express his approbation of the arrangement. Elizabeth, initially feeling as though she was an interloper among the group, began to feel more at ease the longer she spoke with Mr Bingley. His graciousness and compassionate manner did much to soothe her ragged nerves. Darcy's presence, however, sent tingles of awareness through her.

"Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. I hope your afternoon was uneventful," Darcy looked at her meaningfully.

A shiver skipped along her spine as she recalled how it felt to be in his arms. Colour blossomed on both cheeks as Elizabeth replied that she was indeed well. Darcy observed her becoming blush and hoped that he might be the cause. While there was no doubt that _he_ had enjoyed their earlier encounter, he had speculated for the better part of the day as to what her sentiments might have been. Her blush indicated that she was as affected as he was. One corner of his mouth turned up in a knowing smile. Elizabeth was captivated by the change in Darcy's countenance with that simple gesture. If he continued to smile like that, her heart might be in considerable peril.

Observing the tête-à-tête between Darcy and Elizabeth, Miss Bingley felt some alarm at the intimacy of their conversation. Her shrill voice from across the room penetrated their pleasant exchange and Elizabeth immediately noticed the alteration in Darcy's demeanour.

"Miss Eliza, you will be seated here if you please." She indicated a chair at the furthest end of the table and proceeded to direct the rest of the party to their places.

"From agreeable to aggravating in a matter of seconds," Elizabeth muttered under her breath. "Poor Miss Bingley, what an unfortunate talent to possess."

Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy's eyes widen slightly as he attempted to restrain a small smile. She coughed daintily to cover her own laughter.

The party took their seats at the table. Mr Bingley was naturally at the head, with his sister, and Mr Darcy flanking him. Mrs Hurst sat next to Darcy, and Mr Hurst was situated between Elizabeth and Miss Bingley, across from his wife. Mr Hurst was not much of a conversationalist, preferring to reserve the use of his lips for eating and drinking wine. This was truly a boon to Elizabeth as it allowed her to partake of her meal mostly uninterrupted, enabling her to return to Jane with some alacrity.

As soon as politely possible, Elizabeth excused herself from the table and returned to her sister's side. The dining room door had barely returned to its frame when Miss Bingley began abusing her to the others. She declared Elizabeth to be lacking in manners, conversation, and style, and to have a surfeit of impertinence and pride.

Mrs Hurst thought the same and added, "She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.''

"She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep from laughing. Very silly to come at all! Why must _she_ be scampering about the country because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy, so dishevelled!''

"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain. And the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office.''

"I thought Miss Elizabeth looked remarkably well when she arrived this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice,'' said Bingley.

"Most everything escapes your notice, Charles." His sister scoffed. " _You_ observed it, Mr Darcy, I am sure, and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see _your sister_ make such an exhibition.''

"Certainly not.'' Darcy reflected on his recent edict that Georgiana not be allowed outside unescorted, a repercussion of her unfortunate encounter with Wickham this summer.

"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.''

"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,'' said Bingley. Silently, Darcy agreed.

Mrs Hurst began again, "I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother and such low connexions, I am afraid there is no chance of it.''

"I think I have heard you say, that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton.''

"Yes, and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.''

"That is capital,'' added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.

"If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside,'' declared Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable.''

"But it must very significantly lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,'' replied Darcy with a frown.

To this speech Bingley made no answer but his sisters gave it their hearty assent and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their 'dear' friend's vulgar relations.

After freely abusing her sister in front of the gentlemen, the two fine ladies returned to Jane's room and kept company with her until summoned to coffee. Elizabeth refused to leave her side as Jane's health was worse than when she had left for supper. It was not until late in the evening when Elizabeth felt that she could leave the sick room as her sister was finally resting comfortably. She thought that she ought to go downstairs and join her hosts for a little while. It was, after all, the polite thing to do, even if it was not exactly how she would like to spend the remainder of her evening.

When Elizabeth entered the drawing room, the whole party was seated at the table engaged in a game of loo. An invitation to play was issued, but seeing that they were playing the game unlimited, she declined. To disguise the fact that she did not possess the funds to play that high, Elizabeth used Jane's health as an excuse as to why she would only be downstairs for a little while. She had brought the copy of _Hamlet,_ which she started reading earlier in the day and voiced her contentment with this activity. Mr Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

"Do you prefer reading to cards?'' he asked incredulously. "That is rather curious.''

"Miss Eliza Bennet,'' said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else.'' She recalled that during one of their earlier visits to Jane today, Elizabeth did not participate in their conversation regarding fashion and gossip. Miss Bingley was greatly puzzled at this as no accomplished woman _she_ knew would suspend her pleasure so readily regarding those topics.

"I deserve neither such praise nor such disapproval,'' Elizabeth exclaimed. "I am _not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.''

"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,'' said Bingley. "And I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well.''

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart. His manners and disposition were all that a young gentleman should be and she hoped that an attachment might be formed between Jane and Bingley. Certainly, there was a scarcity of such handsome and kind, young gentlemen in Hertfordshire; and Jane, if so inclined, should claim Mr Bingley for herself as soon as possible.

 _Gah! Now I sound like my mother!_ Elizabeth winced. She settled back against the sofa and opened her book.

His attention completely captivated by Miss Elizabeth, Darcy was having difficulty concentrating on the cards. He was astonished by his fierce attraction to her. In all his adult years he had never felt so strongly about a woman. He had listened intently to the discussion between Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst earlier in the evening when they were discussing Miss Elizabeth's lack of connexions and unsuitable relations. He knew that the Longbourn estate was entailed and that with five daughters, the Bennets would need to settle the girls as comfortably in marriage as possible. But based on the size of the estate, he knew that their dowries would be very little inducement for gentlemen suitors.

In addition, he had witnessed the 'unsuitable relations' at the assembly, and later at the party at Lucas Lodge. The comportment of Mrs Bennet and her two youngest daughters was vulgar and loud. He could not say the same for Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth; their manners and bearing were exactly what those of a lady should be. For all of Miss Bingley's pride and belief in her self-importance, the Misses Bennet excelled in the duties and decorum as befitting daughters of a gentleman. The contrast between the women was unmistakeable and reinforced what Darcy should have known already. There are some things money cannot buy, like manners, morals and integrity.

He had been indoctrinated by the edicts of the upper echelon of British society and so, held to the belief that as a Darcy, his duty was to marry well, and not necessarily for his own satisfaction. A wife with unsuitable relations and low connexions would most certainly lessen Georgiana's chances of marrying well. He sighed and then froze in alarm.

 _Wife?! Where did that come from?_ he thought, feeling flustered.

Darcy threw down a card in exasperation and belatedly noticed that he had accidentally played a card that trumped his partner's winning play. Sighing, he looked over at the sofa where she sat engrossed in her book. She absently tucked a loose wisp of hair behind one ear and bit her bottom lip in concentration. Darcy nearly groaned, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. She was a siren and she was completely oblivious as to her effect on him.

Almost as if she sensed his scrutiny, Elizabeth glanced up from her book and met his gaze. She gasped at the intense look in his eyes, a becoming blush spreading from her neckline to her face. The room suddenly became overly warm and her breath caught in her throat.

Miss Bingley, observing the intimate look between the couple, felt no little anxiety. She had been waiting not-so-patiently for Mr Darcy to declare his intentions to her for almost six years. As he was soon to approach his thirtieth year, she was certain that the coveted declaration would occur any day now. With her manners and beauty, her sense of fashion, and numerous accomplishments, she knew she was the superior choice. She surpassed all the other ladies of her acquaintance in these areas. Being the sister of Mr Darcy's best friend had allowed her unprecedented access and she knew that he did not spend time with any other women aside from his family. This was confirmation enough for her, for who else would he marry?

In addition, she possessed a substantial dowry, unlike the Bennet sisters who were obviously in reduced circumstances. Miss Bingley regarded the dress Elizabeth was wearing tonight with disapproval. It was fashioned in a style that was all the rage . . . two years ago! And, there was not enough lace to make it at all remarkable. She sniffed in disdain. She was not going to allow this country upstart to lay claim to Mr Darcy.

Attempting to draw his attention away from Elizabeth, Miss Bingley addressed him.

"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?'' she asked. "Will she be as tall as I am?''

"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller.''

"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such composure, such manners, and so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the piano-forte is exquisite.''

"It is amazing to me,'' said Bingley, "how young ladies can have the patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.''

"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?''

"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.''

"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,'' said Darcy, "has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse, or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.''

"Nor I, I am sure,'' said Miss Bingley.

"Then,'' observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.''

"Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.''

"Oh! certainly,'' cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually encountered. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.''

"All this she must possess,'' added Darcy, "and to all this she must yet add something more significant, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.''

"I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_ ,'' said Elizabeth incredulously, one brow arching impertinently.

Although secretly pleased by the mention of this final stipulation by Mr Darcy, she found the entire catalogue of accomplishments preposterous in the extreme, especially being requisite in one singular woman.

"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?''

" _I_ never saw such a woman. _I_ never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, in one woman.''

Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who answered this description, when Mr Hurst called them to order, with bitter complaints of their inattention to the card game. As all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the room.

"Eliza Bennet,'' said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, "is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own, and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very contemptible art.''

"Undoubtedly,'' replied Darcy, to whom this remark was primarily addressed, "there is spitefulness in _all_ the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Any artifice used in a calculating manner is despicable.''

Miss Bingley coloured slightly at his implied meaning and decided it would be in her best interest not to continue the subject.

* * *

Elizabeth spent the remainder of the evening at Jane's bedside. It was half-past one in the morning and being an extensive reader, she had stayed awake to finish _Hamlet_. Seeing that Jane was resting easily, Elizabeth secured a candle and quietly opened the door to the hall. She only had to walk a few feet to her own chamber door and entered her room. The single candle barely chased away the shadows in front of her.

Sitting at the vanity, she took the pins out of her hair and sighed in pleasure as it tumbled free. She brushed it out and then braided her chestnut tresses into a single plait. After she undressed herself and donned her white, high-necked nightgown, Elizabeth climbed into the tester bed and fluffed her pillows. She leant to the side and took a deep breath to blow out the candle on the nightstand. Just as she pursed her lips and started to exhale, she saw movement in the far corner, a shadow in the shape of a person. Unable to take back her breath, the candle was extinguished and the room plunged into darkness. Elizabeth was immobilized in abject fear. She dared not move or even breathe, as she strained her eyes in the pitch-black night.

Her heart pounded fiercely, roaring in her ears. She felt as if she could hear nothing else besides it. The silence was thick and oppressive and combined with the utter darkness, the atmosphere pressed like a physical weight on Elizabeth. Still straining to see or hear something, she felt her lungs burning and she was forced to take a deep breath. The fresh air rushing into her body prompted her to action. She slowly slid out from under the bed covers and headed in the direction where she thought the door should be, arms straight out in front of her.

She felt a wave of relief as she touched the wooden door. Fumbling for the handle, she moved it back and forth but it would not release. She was trapped. A hard clench of fear knotted her belly and she broke out into a cold sweat. She rattled the door handle until finally it unlatched and she yanked the door open. Launching herself into the hallway, she used the wall to guide her way the few feet to Jane's door.

Elizabeth flung open the door to her sister's chamber and quickly slammed it shut behind her. The soft glow of the fire offered immediate comfort. She let her full weight drop against the door, gasping for breath. After a few moments she lurched towards the chair at the bedside and dropped into it, trembling. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She sat in that position for quite awhile thinking over what had just occurred. Eventually, her breathing slowed and the tremors subsided. Glancing at Jane, she saw that her sister was still sleeping and that she was not disturbed by Elizabeth's hasty entry into her room, she sighed in relief.

Suddenly, she stifled a giggle as she thought about how terrified she had been and how foolish she must have appeared dashing through the hallway. As she was normally self-possessed and not prone to hysteria, she puzzled over why she was so unnerved.

 _My imagination must be overwrought due to the strange situation I found myself in this morning,_ she mused, _and furthermore, I have been reading_ Hamlet _all day. I must have seen a dress hanging on the wardrobe or a few pieces of furniture that coalesced into the shape of a man in the dark. Yes, just so, only an illusion!_

Elizabeth felt relieved that she was able to formulate a rational explanation for her harrowing flight and focussed her attention on Jane. Unfortunately, she determined that she would not be able to sleep any time soon. Eager to prove to herself that she was not a silly goose in the dark, Elizabeth concluded that there was only one thing to do: walk to the library for another book. She felt no little apprehension about traipsing around the shadowy manor at this late hour, but then straightened her spine and gathered her fortitude.

 _Surely the others are tucked into their beds sleeping soundly. It shan't take me but a few minutes to choose a book and return to my chamber . . . or maybe Jane's chamber, just for tonight,_ she thought.

She procured a candle and quietly opened the door and tiptoed out into the hallway.

* * *

 _The fog was thick and white and hugged the ground. In the darkness, it was almost impossible to see what was more than a few yards in front of him. He was cold and wet and had been slogging through the morass for what seemed like an eternity. Every step he took was torture, like millstones were tied to his ankles. Heavy, heavy weights making him strain and pull and trudge through thick water. His sluggish progress was marked in excruciatingly slow inches. The urgency he felt to traverse the morass as soon as possible was palpable. Something, or someone, important waited at the other side. All he knew was that he had to arrive there as expeditiously as possible and he was currently moving too slow. Every minute that ticked by increased his feeling of dread._

 _Abruptly, the fog swirled away, wispy trails left in its wake. The morass was behind him and he walked easily along a gurgling river. The full moon radiating a bright light, illuminating the entire meadow. Crickets chirped. Frogs croaked. The very picture of a peaceful night but his anxiety had not abated. He slowed his pace when he saw a figure in white hunched over on the bank of the river. The moonlight shone on her hair, pale white and unbound. After a few moments, he observed that she was shaking as if weeping. Curious, and first and foremost being a gentleman, he advanced a few feet, his hand reaching out as if to touch her shoulder. Before he could get within arm's length of the woman, she sprung up out of her crouch and turned on him. He fell backwards in his shock, landing on the ground with his elbows supporting his body weight, his legs askew._

 _He knew this woman. It was his ghostly visitant from Pemberley. The woman was haggard in appearance and her eyes were fiery red. Her body moved towards him hovering above the ground, her skirts fluttering around her. As she came closer, he scuttled slowly backwards, unsure of her intent. She stopped suddenly and raised her bony finger to point at him, her mouth proclaiming unvoiced words. That feeling of anguish that always accompanied the apparition moved through his body swiftly. He moaned in despair._

 _The hag started to move steadily towards him again and he swiftly backed away in response. In his haste to get away, he did not notice how close he was to the edge of the river. His right hand slipped on the edge and he started to fall._

Darcy awoke with a start as he hit the hard floor with a thud. Lying on his back, he looked up seeing the shape of his bed in the dimness. With a groan, he rolled over and stood up, rubbing his backside. His nightshirt stuck to his clammy body and he walked to his nightstand and the ewer of water. Pouring water into the washbowl, he splashed his face several times. He found a small towel, patted his face dry and then returned to sit on the edge of the bed. Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, Darcy decided what he needed was a stiff drink.

* * *

Darcy heard the library door open and froze in the wingback chair in which he was sitting in front of the cold fireplace. He had been there brooding for some time, nursing his brandy and trying to forget his dream. The glow of a candle crept across the room as someone walked in. Elizabeth entered the library and set her candle down. She crossed her arms over her chest and briskly rubbed herself in the chilly air. The fire must have burned out several hours ago. She sighed as she looked at the two small piles of books.

"What a travesty," she murmured.

Darcy relaxed when he heard her voice. For a few terrifying heartbeats, he thought it might have been Caroline pursuing him. Elizabeth picked up her candle again and walked to the shelf where she put it down so she could shuffle through the books easier. He could smell her fragrance as she strolled past him. He closed his eyes for a moment, revelling in her sweet scent.

He opened his eyes to see her standing slantwise to his left and was immediately flabbergasted by the sight before him. _Bloody hell!_

Elizabeth was betwixt him and the candle on the shelf, which allowed the light to filter through her nightgown. He swallowed hard and sat momentarily mesmerised by the silhouette of her feminine curves. Belatedly, he remembered that he was honour-bound as a gentleman to announce his presence. He quickly brushed aside the admonition that he should have done so when she first entered the room.

"Miss Elizabeth . . ." he quietly addressed her.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and let out a small squeak as the book she was leafing through slipped from her hands. Her arm shot up and her hand splayed out on the middle of her chest as she took in a few gulps of air. She turned to look at him.

"Forgive me for startling you."

"Oh my goodness, Mr Darcy!" she gasped. "I had no idea there was anyone else in the room, sir."

He watched as her chest rose and fell rapidly, the candlelight now illuminating her from the side. Never had he looked upon a woman so intimately. He knew the curves of her body would be burned in his memory indefinitely. Darcy finally tore his eyes away from her lithe figure and Elizabeth met his heated gaze. She wondered at his intense expression as the candlelight highlighted the planes and angles of his handsome face. Her mouth went dry as he slowly stood upright and took a step towards her. She instinctively stepped back until she was pressed against the shelving.

He was so close now she could see the shadow of the stubble on his jaw, and she wondered how it would feel to touch him there. He raised his hand and slowly caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. She stopped breathing for a moment. Her heart pounding, she wet her lips and saw Darcy's gaze lower and focus on her mouth. His hand gently cupped her cheek.

"Elizabeth . . ." He whispered her name.

Without warning, an icy blast of air forcefully hit her body. Their sharp gasps could be heard as the room was thrown into darkness. The candle was abruptly extinguished and the moon light streaming through the windows cast sinister shadows. She heard a low keening sound from the far corner of the room and the hair on her arms stood up, a feeling of dread coming swiftly upon her.

Darcy heard the moaning from the corner and quickly turned to face the unseen threat, wrapping his arm around Elizabeth's waist and pulling her close. Neither of them spoke or even breathed, waiting to see what would happen next. A shimmering form materialised from the inky darkness of the corner. Elizabeth stiffened and Darcy pressed her tighter to his side. The form took on the shape of a pale-haired woman hovering above the floor, her crimson eyes glowing eerily in the dim room and her hair floating weightless around her. The apparition opened her mouth and the same low moan broke forth as she raised her skeletal hand to point in their direction.

The familiar anguish emanating from the spectre flooded through Darcy as it had during the many other terrifying nights he had been haunted by the fiend. But for the first time, he heard the keening sound that accompanied it and it made his gut clench in apprehension. Her bony finger was pointed directly at him and he felt a great weight of foreboding sweep through him as she continued to keen. He stood rooted to the floor, prepared to protect Elizabeth if necessary. He felt her trembling and she clutched him closer as the spectre moved towards them. The banshee suddenly transformed into an old hag with missing teeth and stringy hair. She charged towards them and in a powerful explosion of speed, her essence passed through the couple leaving a searing, stinging feeling of bitter cold in her wake.

Elizabeth turned fully into Darcy's arms and buried her head in his chest, clutching at his shirt and shaking. Reeling from the spectre's forceful departure, Darcy could do nothing but stand there and hold Elizabeth tight. They stood quietly in that manner for a few minutes. Recovering her wits first, Elizabeth lifted her head and looked at the man who was embracing her.

"Sir, I believe we were just violated by a banshee." A twinkle of excitement flashed in her eyes.

Darcy looked at her in surprise, impressed by her bravery. He expected her to be in full hysterics by now. Instead, she looked at the entire encounter as some kind of adventure.

He gently separated himself from Elizabeth and led her to one of the wing-backed chairs flanking the fireplace. Then he sat in the opposite chair and regarded her carefully.

"Miss Elizabeth, I will assume that we were subjected to the same phenomenon just now." He cleared his throat nervously. "You witnessed that, did you not?"

"Most undoubtedly, sir. I saw and heard the banshee, again."

Darcy sighed in relief. Then he looked at her warily. "Again?"

"This evening's encounter was not my first."

"Ah, that is what frightened you so badly this morning, was it not?" She nodded her head.

"Banshee? Are you sure that is what it was?" he asked.

"I am almost positive, sir. My maid told me about the legend of the _bean sidhe_ earlier tonight before supper. What else could it have been?"

"You were discussing banshees with your maid?"

"Are you familiar with the legend of the banshee?" she asked eagerly.

"My great aunt Margaret would tell me tales from her childhood. I thought that they were just that," he waved his hand dismissively, ". . . stories, make-believe." He looked away towards the window, a frown upon his face.

"Is something troubling you, Mr. Darcy?"

"I have been visited by the banshee for the past few months," he admitted.

Elizabeth gasped. "What does she want with you, sir?"

"I have yet to discover that, Miss Elizabeth. However, if my aunt's stories are in fact, true, then I am afraid that someone is marked for death."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for all the fun reviews! I love how creative you all are._

 _Text and dialogue was directly and slightly modified from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (1813)_

* * *

 _All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The air was crisp and the sun was suspended just over the horizon in the early morning sky as Darcy made his way to the stable. He had not slept well during the few remaining hours after his encounter in the library with Elizabeth and he decided a brisk ride might help to settle his troubled spirit. With the sound of the rushing wind and the rhythmic pounding of hooves, Darcy was lulled into a soothing calm, the restoration of his good humour owing much to the routine of the act.

After cantering across the fields for some time, Darcy slowed his horse to an easy gait, allowing his mount to rest as he contemplated the past twenty-four hours. There were only two subjects on his mind this morning, no matter what he endeavoured to think about, Elizabeth and the banshee. Unfortunately, he was familiar with the banshee and therefore he only needed to devote a small amount of time to that particular subject. He was dismayed that she had returned to haunt him, thinking that he had escaped her clutches by travelling to Netherfield, but her dramatic return rectified that misapprehension.

Even more unexpected was the fact that Elizabeth witnessed the whole terrifying event by his side. He smiled as he pictured Elizabeth's eyes flashing with excitement after seeing the banshee. He felt intense relief that neither was he going mad nor was he headed to Bedlam, at the moment anyway.

He sobered up quickly recalling his recent actions towards Elizabeth. She was well within her rights to call him out for compromising her, but she had said nothing. That in itself was extraordinary. How many manic mothers and daring daughters had he outmanoeuvred these past ten years? Yet, he had somehow stumbled upon the one woman in all of Britain who refused to run him to ground. How refreshing and intriguing.

Darcy experienced a sense of pride in the fact that he did not seek out female companionship in a mistress, a lonely widow, or a courtesan. His father had instilled in him a deep respect for women and especially his future bride. This was such a powerful idea that Darcy had avoided any romantic entanglements for the better part of his young adulthood. The management of Pemberley, and acting as both father and mother to Georgiana after their father's death, left him with little time or inclination to engage in seduction of any sort. The difficulty with this honourable behaviour was that he had kept his baser instincts tightly controlled for a very long time. Elizabeth stirred something in his soul and his body instinctively reacted. He had nearly lost control of himself and kissed her last night.

 _Even now I long to touch her soft, pale skin, to press my lips to that delicate spot under her ear where her pulse beat wildly when I held her close._

Desire surged through him at the very thought. She was intoxicating. He wanted more but more meant marriage. Not that he would ever consider offering for her in any way that was less than what she deserved. Elizabeth would be no one's mistress, that he knew without a doubt. However, his need to be with her, to touch her, was overpowering and he feared it would soon be insurmountable, especially if he continued to spend time with her.

Every minute in her presence led him to some new delightful discovery about her character. She was passionate in her devotion to those she loved and protected them fiercely. This intense, unconditional love captivated Darcy in the most primal way for he realised he had no one in his life who could love him in that manner. He wanted someone to see him only as Fitzwilliam, to love him as a man and not a pecuniary prize. He craved a bond that was as loving and as loyal as Elizabeth's admirable devotion to her family and friends.

What is more, she bore Miss Bingley's pointed barbs and discourteous conduct with patience and grace, something he often found difficult to achieve for himself. Elizabeth's intelligence was evident in everything she said and did. She was exceptionally witty and completely charming. She was made for happiness and he wanted to bask in that feeling, to experience its warm glow.

 _But am I ready for marriage? And what of her unsuitable relations?_

While he disapproved of Caroline's spiteful behaviour towards the Bennet sisters yesterday, he had to grudgingly admit that she was not mistaken about the inferiority of the family in general. The vulgarity displayed by the remaining members of the Bennet family made a marriage to Elizabeth less than appealing. His duty, first and foremost, was to his sister and he must consider Georgiana's reputation and prospects. Most assuredly, an intimate association with the Bennets would reflect poorly on Georgiana and potentially diminish her ability to marry well.

The only way to repress his burgeoning feelings for Elizabeth and to not raise her expectations was to appear disinterested and remain aloof. He sighed heavily and turned his mount toward Netherfield. He knew what he must do and his heart rebelled at the idea.

* * *

Elizabeth awoke with a groan, her body protesting exceedingly. She had fallen asleep in the chair at Jane's bedside, bent over with her head resting on her arms atop the coverlet. She looked at her sister and was happy to see that Jane looked significantly improved from the day before.

Jane smiled wearily at her younger sister, thankful Lizzy had remained at Netherfield overnight.

"That position did not appear to be at all comfortable," Jane ironically pointed out. She smirked at her sister who was now gingerly standing with a hand to her lower back and stretching in an attempt to work out any lingering stiffness.

"Did Miss Bingley not offer you a room, Lizzy?" she frowned at the implication.

Elizabeth pulled a face at her sister and replied, "Do not fret, dearest. Miss Bingley most certainly did her duty, albeit reluctantly. My room is just next door to yours."

"Why ever would you choose to sleep in that disagreeable chair? I was not so ill as to require your constant attention."

At this enquiry, Elizabeth was uncharacteristically silent. Jane could see that she was working through a problem before she answered, which was rather unusual for her. Frequently in awe of her sister's swift responses to comments and topics of conversations, Jane was deep in thought over Elizabeth's current peculiar hesitation when she heard her sister give a tinkling laugh.

"You should have seen your mettlesome sister last night, Jane. She-Who-Rises-to-Any-Challenge was momentarily frightened by her own imaginings and I did not wish to stay in my room alone. Besides, I was so late in retiring that there was no fire and my room was cold. Yours was much more inviting," Elizabeth smiled reassuringly.

"What frightened you, Lizzy?" Jane expressed some concern. Her sister was usually courageous and steadfast, if not sometimes outright daring. Jane could not imagine anything that would elicit timidity of any kind from her. She creased her brow in concern.

"I was reading _Hamlet_ all day and I suppose I imagined a person in the darkest corner of my room just as I extinguished the candle. I dashed down the hall in a panic and ran into your room. And a sore back is the penalty for my faint heart."

Elizabeth concealed the more significant fact that she had met Mr Darcy and his banshee in the library. She longed to disclose all that had occurred to Jane but they had made a promise to keep the ghostly manifestations a shared secret. Neither one had any desire for others to know that they saw spectres in the night . . . or during the day.

A knock on the door saved Elizabeth from any further explanations and she was greatly relieved. Upon answering it, she spied Brigid standing at the threshold with a note in her hand.

"Beggin' your pardon, Miss, the Master asked me to deliver this to you and to wait for your reply."

Elizabeth motioned for Brigid to enter the room, shutting the door behind her. She accepted the note and saw that the handwriting on the front was very poor and almost illegible. Opening it, she perused it briefly and then a bright smile lit her countenance.

"Jane, this is a missive, in Mr Bingley's own hand, wishing to hear about the return of your good health." There was a teasing tone in her sister's statement and one eyebrow arched in amusement. Jane blushed furiously and buried her head under the covers.

A muffled voice broke forth, "Lizzy, really. He is just being polite."

"Hmmm . . . we shall see, shall we not?" She walked to the escritoire and sat, prepared to take dictation from her sister. "Now, Jane, there is no use raising a breeze.(1) I am well aware that you find him intriguing. What shall my reply be?" She lifted up the quill, prepared to write.

"Ugh . . . Lizzy! Please just write the usual pleasantries and reply that I am much improved." Jane resurfaced from the depths of the bedclothes, wisps of golden hair hanging limply in her face. She blew a particularly bothersome strand up in exasperation.

Chuckling to herself, Elizabeth penned an appropriate reply and gave it to Brigid who curtseyed and quit the room.

"I suppose that while I am here, I must write to Mama. I do not wish to arrive at Longbourn only to hear her tirades that you were not yet well."

Brigid brought their breakfast on a tray and left to dispatch the letter to Mrs Bennet. After the two ladies had broken their fast, Brigid returned to assist in their morning ablutions. She styled Elizabeth's hair into a simple but flattering chignon. Elizabeth then sat on the bed and brushed out Jane's hair, interweaving it into a thick plait. She had just finished when a perfunctory knock was all the warning issued before Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley sashayed into the room.

They spent a quarter of an hour visiting with Jane. Not long after, Elizabeth was summoned to the drawing room as Mrs Bennet and her sisters had arrived. Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs Bennet would have been very miserable. But being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately as her restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She would not listen therefore to her daughter's proposal of being carried home. Neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think it at all advisable.

After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss Bingley's appearance and invitation the mother and three daughters all attended her into the breakfast parlour. Darcy and Bingley arrived after receiving word of their guests. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.

"Indeed I have, Sir,'' was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.''

"Removed!'' exclaimed Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.''

"You may depend upon it, Madam,'' said Miss Bingley with cold civility, "that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us.''

Mrs Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.

"I am sure,'' she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world - which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to _her_. You have a sweet room here, Mr Bingley, and a charming prospect over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry I hope though you have but a short lease.''

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry,'' he replied light-heartedly, "And therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.''

"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,'' proclaimed Elizabeth with a smile.

"You begin to comprehend me, do you?'' he asked merrily, his gaze turning towards her.

"Oh yes, I understand you perfectly.''

"I wish I might take this for a compliment but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful," Bingley teased.

"That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.''

"Lizzy,'' admonished her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.'' Elizabeth looked down at her lap, mortified that her mother would reprimand her in front of company. Mr Darcy frowned in disapproval at Mrs Bennets' faux pas, feeling sympathy for Elizabeth.

"I did not know that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.'' Bingley continued.

"Yes, but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They have at least that advantage,'' said Elizabeth, thinking chiefly of Mr Darcy. She turned her head to look upon him standing at the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

"The country,'' said Darcy turning from the window and meeting her gaze, "can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.''

"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever,'' Elizabeth countered.

"Yes, indeed,'' cried Mrs Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of _that_ going on in the country as in town.''

Everybody was surprised and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. _Mrs Bennet has poor manners and an incredibly obtuse understanding. Elizabeth must have acquired her liveliness and wit from Mr Bennet._

Mrs Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.

"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal more pleasant, is not it, Mr Bingley?''

"When I am in the country,'' he replied, "I never wish to leave it and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.''

"Ay, that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman,'' looking askance at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing at all.'' She sniffed.

"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken,'' said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother's behaviour. "You quite mistook Mr Darcy. He only meant that there were not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true.''

"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were, but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families.''

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth allowed Bingley to keep his countenance. His sister was less delicate and directed her eye towards Mr Darcy with a very expressive smirk. Elizabeth, in an attempt to change the topic, now asked her mother if Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn while she was away at Netherfield.

"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion, so genteel and so easy! He has always something to say to everybody. _That_ is my idea of good breeding and those persons who fancy themselves very important and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.''

"Did Charlotte dine with you?'' Elizabeth asked hurriedly.

"No, she went home. I fancy she was wanted to help make the mince-pies. For my part, Mr Bingley, _I_ always keep servants that can do their own work. _My_ daughters are brought up differently. But everybody is to judge for themselves and the Lucases are very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome. Not that I think Charlotte is so _very_ plain but then she is our particular friend."

Elizabeth gaped at her mother upon hearing this statement, quickly remembering to close her mouth since she was in company. _I cannot believe_ _she just said that!_

"She seems a very pleasant young woman,'' Bingley offered.

"Oh dear, yes, but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so and has been envious that I have one daughter who is so beautiful. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, with Jane one does not often see anybody better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he did not." Here, Mrs Bennet paused, thinking. "Perhaps he thought her too young . . . nevertheless, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were.''

"And so ended his affection,'' said Elizabeth with barely concealed annoyance, her acerbic wit an attempt to cover for her mother's inelegance. "There have been many men, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!''

"I have been used to considering poetry as the _food_ of love,'' said Darcy, amused at Elizabeth's declaration.

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.'' Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

Darcy only smiled and turned back to his view from the window. _She is so very clever. Life with Elizabeth would never be dull_. He clenched his jaw in frustration. _Devil take it! I must stop thinking about her!_

The awkward pause which ensued made Elizabeth restless and fearful that her mother would display her indecorum again. She longed to speak, but could think of nothing to say. After a short silence Mrs Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr Bingley for his kindness to Jane with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy.

Lizzy blushed profusely at this and was mortified to hear Miss Bingley sniggering. _I hope this meeting is almost at an end. If Mama does not leave soon, I believe I will scream._

Mr Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his answer and forced his oldest sister to be civil also, to say what the occasion required. She performed her part, indeed, without much graciousness, but Mrs Bennet was satisfied and soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put herself forward. Lydia and Kitty had been whispering to each other during the entire visit and the result of it was that the youngest should beleaguer Mr Bingley about his previous promise to give a ball at Netherfield.

Lydia was a determined, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion and good-humoured countenance. She had a cheerful and boisterous exuberance and a sort of natural confidence and easy manners, which attracted the attentions of the officers that she met at her uncle's dinners and around town. Subsequently, this masculine attention had bolstered her self-importance and her audaciousness. She had no qualms about importuning Mr Bingley on the subject of the ball and abruptly reminded him of his promise, adding that it would be the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden attack was exactly what Mrs Bennet wished to hear.

"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement and when your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill.''

Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh, yes. It would be much better to wait till Jane is well and by that time most likely Captain Carter will be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball,'' she added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not.'' (2) Elizabeth clenched her teeth together at her sister's shameless antics.

Mrs Bennet and her daughters departed and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, certain that the gauche behaviour of her family would not go unmentioned when she quit the room. The two ladies had many minutes of delight insulting the Bennets and laughing at their expense. Mr Darcy, however, could not be prevailed upon to join in their censure of them despite all Miss Bingley's attempts. He could not help thinking that this morning's exhibition by Mrs Bennet and her youngest daughters confirmed his own convictions about their impropriety and lack of suitability. He rubbed his chest over his heart, feeling as if something was constricting it excessively.

* * *

The Misses Bennet passed the afternoon pleasantly together in Jane's room. Between Elizabeth's recollection of their mother's visit and reading aloud to Jane from _A Midsummer Night's Dream (3)_ , the ladies were sufficiently amused. There was also a visit from Ms Bingley and Mrs Hurst to pass the time. Elizabeth continued to be amazed at the genuine concern the ladies appeared to show for her sister, even though she was sure she had observed Miss Bingley's true character breaking through the cracks in her polite veneer several times in the past few days.

Jane's dinner tray arrived and her sister tended to her, keeping her company afterwards. Shortly after Jane fell asleep, Elizabeth returned to her room to dress for dinner downstairs. She rang for Brigid and the two women fell into easy conversation while she assisted Elizabeth. She had so many unanswered questions about the banshee, but she had been sworn to secrecy by Darcy. Elizabeth was many things, but she did not break promises. When Brigid finished, Elizabeth admired her handiwork in the mirror and deciding that she looked as well as she could, she pinched her cheeks to add a little colour.

Descending the stairs, her hand sliding lightly along the highly polished bannister, Elizabeth was preoccupied with her thoughts and did not see Darcy standing in the entrance hall. He watched her come down, her white spotted muslin gown giving her the illusion of gliding. Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head and a few well-placed curls brushed her long neck. Darcy thought she was enchanting and completely forgot his earlier resolve to not pay her any undue attention for the remainder of her stay.

Elizabeth stopped on the last stair and looked up, meeting his gaze. A spark of awareness arced between them, time slowing to the beat of two hearts. Her breath caught in her throat. He was devastatingly handsome in his black dinner clothes and snowy white cravat. His brown hair curled to just brush his collar and his warm, brown eyes studied her intently. His small, one-sided smile gave him a rakish air and . . .

 _Was that a dimple?_ _Oh my goodness!_ Between his dimples and the cleft in his chin, accentuating his square jaw, Elizabeth thought she might swoon. _I have never swooned in my life! If I am going to hit the floor in a disgraceful heap for the first time, then that man is most decidedly worthy._ She sighed contentedly.

Darcy walked across the marble floor and met the lovely vision at the foot of the staircase, he bowed gracefully. She curtseyed in return.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet. May I have the honour of escorting you to the drawing room?" His smooth baritone voice evoked a small shiver to course through her body.

"Good evening, Mr Darcy, that would be very agreeable." She smiled demurely.

He offered her his arm and she gently laid her small hand on his sleeve. Pressing her arm firmly against him, his heart accelerated at her touch. They strolled slowly in the direction of the drawing room.

Miss Bingley had been eagerly anticipating Darcy's arrival and upon seeing the couple enter the room together, her eyes narrowed and her lip curled up in a sneer. Mrs Hurst was sitting next to her and heard a strangled sound escape her sister's throat. Surprised, she turned to face her and observing her menacing countenance, elbowed Miss Bingley discreetly in the side. Miss Bingley's face immediately changed to reflect a sickly sweet smile and while it still appeared unnatural, at least it was an improvement.

When dinner was announced, Miss Bingley rushed to Mr Darcy's side and latched onto his arm before it was offered. Darcy winced but in the true fashion of a gentleman who did not wish to offend his host and friend, he did not correct her and led her through the drawing room door.

"Mr Darcy, how chivalrous of you to offer to escort me to the dining room," she cooed.

Elizabeth held back a snort at Miss Bingley's desperate behaviour. Mr and Mrs Hurst followed behind them and Mr Bingley approached Elizabeth with his proffered arm and a kind smile. She gave him a grateful smile of her own and took his arm.

In the dining room, Bingley led Elizabeth to the open chair next to Darcy. She was surprised that Miss Bingley had not yet laid claim to it. Searching the room, she noticed that Miss Bingley was berating a servant on the opposite side and was wholly unaware of her loss. Elizabeth did not use her cunning for duplicitous purposes and generally branded all pretence as insincerity. But she did love a good laugh and all things ridiculous and she could just imagine the look on Miss Bingley's face when she found Elizabeth had usurped her seating arrangements. She stifled a giggle and gracefully took her place awaiting the return of the hostess to the table.

Darcy sighed in relief. After Miss Bingley accosted him in the drawing room, he was miserably certain he would never escape her cloying presence. Now he was to have the pleasure of sitting beside the one lady who held him enthralled. That tingle of awareness that always occurred when Elizabeth was near flickered through him. He felt so alive and his every sense was heightened in response.

Everyone was finally seated and Elizabeth was far from disappointed as Miss Bingley turned an unflattering shade of purple when she realised she would not be seated next to Mr Darcy tonight. If looks could kill, Elizabeth was absolutely certain she would be dead before the second course by the amount of malevolence Miss Bingley was directing at her. She smiled into her spoonful of soup and savoured the silliness.

Near the end of the second course, Elizabeth, who had been previously discussing Pemberley with Mr Darcy, turned to ask him a question about his estate. She was alarmed to see that he looked rather flushed and a fine sheen of perspiration was visible on his brow. He was clutching his abdomen and staring unfocused at his plate.

"Sir, are you well?" she asked him with some urgency.

Darcy did not answer her but slowly turned his head in her direction. His pupils were constricted to pinpoints and a small trail of drool was noticeable at one corner of his mouth. Elizabeth gasped and reached out to touch his sleeve. At that exact moment, Darcy slumped over and leant into her heavily, his silverware clattering to the floor. She grunted and caught his weight as best she could.

"Mr Bingley, I am in need of some assistance with Mr Darcy," she exclaimed.

Bingley forcefully shoved his chair away from the table and shot to his feet. Rushing to his friend's side he lifted the man's deadweight off of Elizabeth and gently lowered him to the floor. Bingley proceeded to loosen Darcy's cravat while issuing orders to his footmen. Upon the arrival of his housekeeper to the dining room, Bingley asked that she summon the apothecary as quickly as possible, whispering to her that he strongly suspected poisoning. Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped in disbelief. Assuring himself that Darcy was indeed still breathing, Bingley sat back on his haunches and directed the footmen to carry Darcy to his room, following them out. Elizabeth stood in shock and watched incredulously as the afflicted man was removed from the room.

* * *

(1) "raising a breeze" is Regency slang for "making a fuss."

(2) Much of the scene from the Bennets visit to Netherfield Park was directly but slightly modified from Jane Austen, Chapter 9 of _Pride and Prejudice_ (1813)

(3) William Shakespeare, _A Midsummer Night's Dream (_ mid-1590s)

* * *

 _All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved._


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hello, faithful readers! So sorry for the semi-intentional cliff hanger. No really, I just thought it was a good place to stop. You know, like at the end of a chapter and then you turn the page to the next chapter and continue reading. Only, this is a serial publication and the readers don't like that. lol**_

 _ **I hope that this chapter can make up for some of the angst of the previous chapter. :)**_

* * *

Chapter 6

The clatter of silverware striking the floor reverberated through the room catching the attention of the rest of the party. Finally aware that there was something exceedingly wrong on the opposite side of the table, Miss Bingley and the Hursts stared in astonishment as Darcy sagged to his left side, his shoulder coming to rest against Elizabeth. The incredible tableau arrested all movement and every gaze was fixed on Darcy.

Marking off each awful second, the sound of the ticking mantle clock was deafening as it echoed in the room. Not one uttered a word. The strained atmosphere created a dreadfulness that pressed in heavily, weighing upon all those in attendance. On tenterhooks, the room's occupants sat or stood, holding stock-still in the lull and anticipating the chaos that would soon ensue. The sound of Mr Bingley's steady voice finally broke the stillness as he issued orders to the staff and deftly took command of the situation, initiating frenzied activity as servants rushed to carry out their directives.

After Mr Bingley lifted the man's deadweight off of Elizabeth, she stood, transfixed by the sight of a stricken Darcy, lying on the floor. She could not reconcile the dignified, virile man from just minutes ago with the now pallid, motionless man. Feeling a heaviness in her chest, she watched in disbelief as the footmen carried their burden out of the dining room. She collapsed into her chair, the worst of the tension draining from her body. _Lord, please let him be unharmed and swiftly restore his good health_ , she fervently prayed with her head bowed.

Leaning back in her chair, Elizabeth rubbed one temple with slightly trembling fingers, her thoughts in a tangle. She tried to make sense of the preceding events, but this only succeeded in bringing several questions to the forefront. The banshee had warned Darcy of an impending tragedy, of that she was certain.

 _But had she been warning him about his own doom? Was this the culmination of months of haunting by the hag? Or was there a more natural explanation for Mr Darcy's illness?_

In vain, Elizabeth searched for answers by methodically reviewing the facts. She stared unseeingly at Darcy's half-eaten food, the low murmur of conversation across the table not broaching her awareness. Swiftly sitting upright, she focussed intently on the bits and pieces left on his plate, her agitated thoughts attempting to cleave together. Mr Hurst, having been interrupted from his meal by the commotion, now picked up his fork again and prepared to recommence eating. Elizabeth saw the movement in her periphery and thrust herself forward to stay his action.

"Mr Hurst," she cried forcefully, her arm extended in his direction as if she could stop him herself from that distance. "Please do not eat anything more! Mr Darcy has several dishes on his plate and we cannot be assured of their quality."

Grunting irritably in response, Mr Hurst reluctantly put his fork down. Mrs Hurst looked rather wan after Elizabeth's announcement and pushed her plate far away from her.

"I believe that we should wait to hear what Mr Jones has to say before we partake of any of the remaining food," Elizabeth concluded. She could not fathom how anyone would still wish to consume what was on the table after witnessing Darcy's paroxysm. Her heart stuttered at the memory of that gentleman's countenance before he collapsed.

Miss Bingley felt herself becoming ill at the thought that Mr Darcy, Master of Pemberley and the means of achieving all her aspirations, collapsed in _her_ dining room after partaking of food from _her_ table. He would think her incompetent and unfit to be Mistress of Pemberly! She felt clammy and overly warm as a flush of shame crept up her neck. Reaching out with a shaky hand, she lifted her half-full glass of wine to her lips and gulped loudly as she drank it all. Returning her glass to the table with a dull thud, she wished that Charles would return forthwith bearing good tidings.

Miss Bingley decided she could no longer sit in the room that was the scene of her humiliation. Rising shakily from the table, she asked her guests to remove to the drawing room. Elizabeth was so deep in thought that she did not hear the request and was summarily abandoned as the trio vacated the room without a backward glance. Now that all distractions were eliminated, Elizabeth was able to deliberate without restraint. She looked about the table, at each platter and vessel, not certain as to where her thoughts were tending. _Meat, vegetable, potato . . ._ She named each dish and alternated between examining Mr Darcy's plate and the original vessels from which the food had been served.

With lightning like clarity, Elizabeth's sharp gaze and tumultuous thoughts converged on one item on Darcy's plate. She sat up at the significance of her discovery.

"The spiced mushrooms," she exclaimed breathlessly.

As the mushrooms were cooked in a brown-coloured sauce which disguised their true appearance, Elizabeth could not be completely certain. It was plausible that an uneducated person had accidentally picked toadstools for tonight's meal.(1) The differences between edible and not could be very subtle, especially to the unskilled observer.(2) Some mushrooms grew late in the autumn season in Hertfordshire and could endure the colder temperatures, especially since the first killing frost had not yet occurred. (3)

Bingley entered the room and saw only Elizabeth was present. She looked up at him with trepidation and a dull ache settled in her chest. Her concern must have been etched on her face for Bingley answered before she could ask.

"He's resting now, Miss Elizabeth. Timmons, his valet, is with him." Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief as the sharp stab of acute anxiety diminished somewhat.

"Sir, I believe I may have deduced the cause of his illness. I suspect that Mr Darcy partook of the spiced mushrooms and then fell ill. It is quite likely the mushrooms were not edible, but instead, poisonous toadstools."

Mr Bingley's eyes widened in alarm. At the suggestion that his servants would knowingly or unknowingly serve toadstools to his family and friends, Bingley was rendered speechless. He felt acutely responsible for the suffering his closest friend was enduring. For as soon as they had settled Darcy on his bed, he began to retch and violently purged the contents of his stomach in the basin that his valet had the foresight to bring.

"Toadstools?" he repeated, eyeing the offending dish with disbelief. "What kind of havey-cavey business is this?"(4) He quickly perused the leftover plates on the table to see who else may have eaten the spiced mushrooms. He sighed in relief when he saw that the only person who had consumed them was Darcy.

"If what you say is true, Miss Elizabeth, then I must go to the kitchen immediately and have an interview with the kitchen servants. Please excuse me." Bingley bowed stiffly and walked determinedly from the room.

Left alone and lost in thought again, Elizabeth jolted when she realised that she had completely forgotten about her sister. She made haste to Jane's room and upon entering, noted that she was awake. Jane was propped up comfortably on a stack of fluffy pillows. She looked up from her book and smiled at Elizabeth.

"Lizzy, I am so happy to see you! I am feeling much better."

Her natural rosy complexion had nearly returned in full, but Elizabeth did not notice. Observing her sister's troubled countenance, Jane let the book fall to her lap from her slack hands and immediately sat upright, losing her playful demeanour.

"What has happened, Lizzy? Are my mother and father well? My sisters?" Jane's enquiries peppered her sister in rapid succession while she twisted her hands in apprehension.

"Be at ease, Jane. All is well at home." Lizzy replied, laying her hand on top of Jane's to stop the fretful movements.

Jane sighed with relief but then promptly furrowed her brow in alarm when she considered that Mr Bingley may have been affected.

Jane impatiently prompted Elizabeth, "Then what has occurred, Lizzy? Is it the Bingleys? The Hursts?"

Elizabeth shook her head in answer to each of these enquiries, her look of distress growing visibly. She moved away from the bed, drifting closer to the window, and gazed out into the gloomy night. She wrapped her arms around herself, a shallow attempt at some little comfort. Endeavouring to blink back the tears that started to well up, Elizabeth could not answer her sister immediately. When she thought that she could do so without her voice betraying her feelings, she spoke.

"Jane, we have reason to believe that Mr Darcy may have been . . . poisoned." Her voice broke on the last word.

Jane gasped, her eyes wide. Turning back towards the bed at the sharp sound, she saw Jane's look of incredulity. Elizabeth swiftly continued, "Mushrooms. It must have been the spiced mushrooms." She paused for a moment, turning back to gaze out the window.

"How do you know it was the mushroom dish?"

"It was the one platter that only Mr Darcy had served himself and I recalled that when we were younger, John Lucas once had similar discomforts after eating some white field mushrooms. Or, at least, that is what he assumed they were. He was not ill for very long. I believe he regained his health fully within a day or two."

Hoping that this outcome would also be as fortunate for Mr Darcy, Elizabeth could not help thinking about the banshee's warning again. The hag could not have meant that _he_ would die! They had only just met, and it had been a very pleasant acquaintance for Elizabeth. Surely death could not be the conclusion of their relationship.

Jane did not want to cause her sister any more pain, but she had to know. The thought of anyone of their acquaintance being so malicious was painful to consider. Jane never laid blame, preferring to believe the best of everyone.

"Do you think it was purposely done, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth returned to her sister's bedside and sat on the edge. Reaching for Jane's hand, she wished with all her heart she could tell her about the banshee's warning. She felt deeply aggrieved at keeping secrets from the person she loved most in the world.

"I earnestly hope it was not purposely done. I cannot imagine who would want to harm Mr Darcy. Everyone here cares for him, or at the very least, respects him. There is no rhyme or reason for causing him such harm."

* * *

 _He squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight reflecting off the water. Putting his hand to his brow to shade his eyes, he took in his surroundings and realised the small body of water he was looking over was an isolated pond at Pemberley. It was good to be home again, he thought, as he breathed deeply inhaling the familiar scent of summer wildflowers and fragrant green grass. Opening his eyes, he gazed out over the water that appeared so cool and inviting in the heat of the day and remembered how it felt to swim here as a boy._

 _Looking down, he saw he was in a state of undress wearing only a white shirt, open at the neck, with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a pair of long pantaloons over his boots. He shaded his eyes again and surveyed the surrounding area. There was no one in sight. He swiftly made up his mind._

 _Pulling his shirt over his head, his well-defined muscles rippled across his back as he tugged it off. He sat on the ground to remove his boots and after a few minutes of struggle, met with success. Standing upright, he unbuttoned the broad fall of his pantaloons and shucked them off quickly along with his drawers. He felt the hot sun hitting his exposed skin and could not wait any longer to be in the refreshing water. He waded in, the cool wetness caressing his legs as he walked forward. At thigh depth, he plunged in and swam underneath the surface until his lungs started to burn. Pushing off the bottom of the lake, he breached the surface, spraying water droplets in all directions as he shook his head of the excess moisture. He was panting, trying to catch his breath while treading water. As his breathing returned to normal, he grinned as an idea came to him._

 _Sinking back and letting his legs float up, the sounds of nature disappeared into silence as he half-submerged his head to float on his back. He closed his eyes and hung suspended while gently undulating his arms to remain buoyant. He knew not how much time he spent in this position, but his pleasant reverie was interrupted by the sound of muted singing. Intrigued, he righted himself in the water and began to paddle in place._

 _As the sweet soprano voice started singing again, he searched the pond for its source. On the opposite side, he saw an unfamiliar outcropping of rocks with a young woman sitting on top. The scene was eerily reminiscent of the descriptions of mermaids he had read about as a boy. He observed her from the short distance across the pond as she brushed her unbound chestnut tresses with a silver comb that winked in the sunlight. She was a siren sent to tempt him. He followed her graceful strokes from her crown all the way to her waist where her burnished mane ended right at her . . . He swallowed hard. His eyes were fixed on the shadow of the sweet cleft centred between her pleasingly curved, naked hips._

 _His nostrils flared as he sharply inhaled and desire blazed through him unchecked, the urgent pull of his need for her becoming his sole focus. In an instant, he knew the identity of the woman, knew her very soul, as her sweet song called to his._

 _'Elizabeth', he whispered roughly._

 _As if she could feel his yearning, the young woman turned her head to look over her shoulder, her hair swinging aside to reveal the curve of her hip dipping into her waist. She smiled an enchanting smile meant only for him, clearly proclaiming her love. She was magnificent and he knew incontrovertibly, she was his. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he started to swim across the pond with long, powerful strokes. After a short period of time, believing himself to be very close to the rocks, he paused to gauge his distance. To his astonishment, he was no closer than he was when he started swimming in her direction a few minutes ago. He took off again, slicing through the water forcefully, his muscles starting to burn as he pushed his body to reach his much-desired destination._

Darcy struggled in the darkness, his entire body afire in agony. He felt as if he was submerged under water, muffled voices echoing from some far away place. He groaned as his gut clenched in a painful spasm. He tasted the acid as it made its way up his throat and rolled over just in time to retch into the basin at the side of his head.

After he had emptied his stomach, he returned to his back, one arm flung over his sweaty brow. Timmons, hearing his master's distress from across the room, rushed to his side to see if he could be of assistance and was relieved to see that he had regained consciousness. Darcy groaned and grabbed his belly with his other hand.

"Sir, can you hear me?" Timmons asked anxiously.

Darcy moaned low in his throat and tried to form a reply. His throat was scratchy, sore from retching. He had an awful taste in his mouth and rasped out, "Water". Timmons hurried to comply, helping to prop up Darcy as he held a glass of tepid water to his lips. Darcy took a few sips and then fell heavily back onto the bed, his head spinning. He moaned as his gut again contracted violently. This time, he did not need to vomit but did not think he could make it to the chamber pot on his own. He struggled to sit up and found Bingley and Timmons at his side. He rasped out a few words indicating his urgent need and the men assisted him.

Returning to the bed was a Herculean effort and Darcy was exhausted by the time he was settled.

"Charles, what happened?" Darcy's voice was like gravel.

"Darce, you ate some toadstools at dinner. Mr Jones says you'll recover and fairly soon." Bingley smiled hesitantly at his friend.

"What?"

"Poisonous fungi, Darce. They sent a kitchen maid out to gather some more mushrooms after one of the servants told Caroline that there wasn't enough for the spiced mushrooms dish." Bingley cringed in anticipation of what he was about to relay. "Caroline did not react kindly to the news and in fact, berated the servant so severely that he was scared he would lose his position. He ordered a young girl, unskilled in mushroom identification, to go out and obtain more."

Darcy groaned, whether in pain or dismay, Bingley knew not. He forged on.

"While I am heartily sorry that you are suffering, my friend, the good news is that no one else likes mushrooms," Bingley chuckled.

"The apothecary said you will be feeling better by tomorrow morning. But in the meantime, I am afraid you will have to suffer through your body purging the posion." Bingley clapped his friend on the shoulder, shaking him and the bed. Darcy moaned again.

"Sorry old chap, no use glumping about it. You will soon be put to rights." (4)

Darcy looked indignantly at his friend and winced as another bout of spasms squeezed through his lower abdomen. Bingley frowned in sympathy and pulled up a chair. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Elizabeth wrote the next morning to her mother to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. The two sisters had agreed that Jane was well enough to return home where she could continue to convalesce in the comfort of Longbourn. But Mrs Bennet, who had anticipated her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure any earlier. Mrs Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday and in her postscript it was added that, if Mr Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well.

Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively resolved. Nor did she expect it would be asked and fearful, on the contrary, as being considered as overstaying their welcome, she urged Jane to petition Mr Bingley to borrow his carriage as soon as possible. At length, it was settled that their original plan of leaving Netherfield that morning should be mentioned and the request to borrow his carriage made.

As Jane was feeling much better this morning, Elizabeth seeing her well guarded against cold, attended her into the dining room where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure. Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable as they were currently. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour and genuinely laugh along with Jane. When Mr Bingley entered, he was delighted to find Jane seated at the table and swiftly joined her after filling his plate at the sideboard. He was full of joy at her recovery and paid her a great deal of attention.

Elizabeth was wild with curiosity regarding Darcy's health and asked Mr Bingley how his friend was faring.

"Much better than last night, Miss Elizabeth. I do not know if he will make it down to break his fast this morning, but perhaps he will be able to visit with us this afternoon."

Having just finished listening to that speech, the party heard the sound of a gentleman clearing his throat from the doorway and all gazes were instantly turned towards Darcy. He was dressed impeccably as usual, but his complexion appeared lackluster, his pallor accentuating the dark purple circles under his eyes. Following closely behind him was Mr Hurst. Darcy addressed himself directly to Miss Bennet with a polite congratulation to see that she was on the mend. Mr Hurst also made her a slight bow and said he was "very glad" she was sufficiently recovered.

Seeing an opportunity to redeem herself after the toadstool calamity, Miss Bingley rushed to Darcy's side to aid him.

"My dear Mr Darcy, we are so happy to see you recovered. Please forgive me for the incompetence of the servants at dinner last night." She clutched his arm possessively, completely unaware of, or wholly ignoring, his unreceptive bearing, his body stiff with irritation.

"Of course, you must know that they came with the estate and that I had no hand in hiring them myself." She waved her hand dismissively in the air. "If I had, this great misfortune would never have occurred."

Rolling her eyes at Miss Bingley's obsequiousness, Elizabeth glanced at Mr Darcy, who was politely, yet desperately, trying to untangle himself from his overly concerned sycophant. With Elizabeth in attendance at Netherfield, Miss Bingley felt her imaginary position was threatened and was doing it much too brown, dangling after him in hopes of securing an offer. (6,7) Miss Bingley practically pulled Mr Darcy to the sideboard and insisted he allow her to serve his plate. Darcy easily acquiesced, having little energy to battle with her this morning.

Elizabeth was not surprised that Darcy did not appear to an advantage this morning. She was surprised, however, that he made the effort to come down to break his fast and had not taken a tray in his chambers. He was so poorly last night she imagined he would need more time to recover. She found that he had served himself very light fare and very little at that. Wanting to discuss the banshee's warning in light of Darcy's malady, she hoped that there might be a few minutes where they could speak alone today. However, there was no favourable moment where she could address him as he sat at the far end of the table. She was quite sure that he had not believed in the banshee legend and had not considered it seriously. She wondered at what his opinion was _now_.

Darcy cast a furtive glance in Elizabeth's direction. To both his delight and dismay, he had a complete recollection of the vivid dream he had experienced last night. Every time he recalled it, in part or in whole, his body eagerly reacted to the alluring vision of Elizabeth on the edge of the pond. He could no longer deny that he was unaffected by her. She was effervescent and spirited. She shone like the brightest star in the sky, surpassing every woman he had ever encountered.

His heart was in grave danger of being engaged and if that were to happen, he would never wish to leave her side. He glanced in her direction once more and his breath hitched in his throat when their gazes caught. She smiled warmly at him and his heart began to beat faster. _No, no, no! This will not do._ _This is exactly why I have to escape Netherfield, the sooner, the better._

Elizabeth was disappointed that Darcy did not return her smile and felt no little confusion as to what he was thinking. Her own smile quickly slipped from her face. She had thought that perhaps they were moving towards something new and rather exciting. Now she wondered if she was the only one who was affected. As there seemed to be no means of acquiring a few minutes of time to speak to him in private, she despaired of obtaining any answers to her questions about the banshee or ascertaining his feelings towards her.

After breaking their fast, the Netherfield party removed to the drawing room. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest Jane should suffer from the climate of the room. And at Mr Bingley's insistence, she moved to sit on the other side of the fireplace, that she might be farther from the door. Bingley then sat down close to her and scarcely talked to anyone else. Elizabeth, reading a book in her usual manner, saw it all with great delight.

At length, Jane broached the subject of borrowing the Bingley carriage to return to Longbourn. Mr Bingley would hear none of it and solicited his sister's assistance in convincing the Misses Bennet to stay at least till the following day. Many professions of concern and wishes for them to stay were given so that their departure was deferred till the morrow. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other. The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her, that she was not enough recovered, but Jane was firm in her resolve.

To Mr Darcy, it was welcome intelligence. Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked and Miss Bingley was glaringly uncivil to her. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration for Elizabeth should now escape him, if not for her benefit, then surely for his.

Mr Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the card table, but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr Darcy did not wish for cards and Mr Hurst soon found even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr Hurst had therefore nothing to do but to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book. Miss Bingley did the same. And Mrs Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss Bennet.

Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr Darcy's progress through his book, as in reading her own. She was perpetually either making some inquiry or looking at his page. She could not win him, however, to any conversation for he merely answered her question and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said,

"How pleasant it is to spend the morning in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library."

No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement. Upon hearing her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and said,

"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in considering a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you decide on it, to consult the wishes of the present party. I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."

"If you mean Darcy," her brother countered, "he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins. But as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards."

"I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were carried on in a different manner, but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day."

"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball." Elizabeth smirked behind her book at Mr Bingley's retort.

Miss Bingley made no answer and soon afterwards got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious of his book. In desperation, she resolved to attempt once more to gain his attentions and turning to Elizabeth said,

"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude." Elizabeth was surprised but agreed to it immediately.

Miss Bingley succeeded in procuring the attention of the real object of her civility; Mr Darcy looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be and unconsciously closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would interfere.

"What could he mean?" She was dying to know what could be his meaning and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him.

"Not at all," was her answer, "but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it."

Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr Darcy in anything and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.

"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," he said, as soon as she allowed him to speak. "You either choose this method of passing the morning because you are in each other's confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking." Elizabeth stifled a grin at his reply.

"If the first, I should be completely in your way and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire." Darcy's gaze was fixed on Elizabeth as he spoke. She blushed and looked away.

"Oh, shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard any thing so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"

"Nothing so easy," said Elizabeth. "Tease him. Laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done." Darcy tensed at this declaration.

"But upon my honour I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind? No, no. I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not ridicule ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh at nothing. Mr Darcy may congratulate himself on his superiority."

"Mr Darcy is not to be laughed at?" exclaimed Elizabeth. "That is an uncommon advantage and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."

"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."

"Certainly," replied Elizabeth, "there are such people, but I hope _I_ am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I admit, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without." She looked at him with a composed countenance but a decidedly impertinent glimmer in her eyes.

"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."

"Such as vanity and pride?" asked Elizabeth, remembering his behaviour at the Assembly.

At this, Darcy paused. How could she guess as to his predicament in relation to his unrepressed attraction to her? How did she know about his struggle to reconcile his feelings for her and the unsuitability of her family? He quickly gathered his wits in order to answer.

"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride, where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation," he concluded.

"Your examination of Mr Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss Bingley somewhat irritably, "and pray what is the result?"

"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise."

"No," said Darcy quickly, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, immediately recognizable. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding, certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever." He grimaced inwardly. _Why did I speak that aloud?_

"That is a failing indeed!" exclaimed Elizabeth, surprised that he would openly admit to his deficiencies. "Callous resentment is a shade in character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from my teasing."

"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."

"And your defect is what, then?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"I suppose my defect is that I do not always heed important signs or forewarnings that are so obviously before me." He replied promptly, his mind full of his fervent feelings for her and thinking about the difficulties of trying to keep his heart from being engaged.

Elizabeth mistakenly assumed he was referring to the banshee and the multiple warnings the hag had issued him. She was desperate to seize him and go someplace quiet where she could speak to him alone.

"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr Hurst." Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the piano-forte was opened. Darcy, after a few moments recollection, was not sorry for the distraction. He was acutely feeling the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention. (8)

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 _(1) "Toadstool": Toads were considered poisonous and toads and fungi were generally despised throughout the world. The word 'toadstool' was reserved for poisonous, inedible fungi, while the term 'mushroom' was generally used for edible fungi._

 _(2) Wild mushrooms are often difficult to identify and differentiating between edible and poisonous can be challenging. Inocybe geophylla var. geophylla is a common and widespread woodland species throughout Britain and Ireland with over 80 recognised species. Its white variety is sometimes mistaken for small field mushrooms with disastrous results: it is very poisonous and its consumption can be fatal. The symptoms of poisoning by this and several similar Inocybe species are those associated with muscarine poisoning. Features develop between 15 minutes and 2 hours of ingestion and include perspiration, salivation, lacrimation, vomiting, abdominal pain, diarrhoea, urgency of micturition, flushing, bradycardia, hypotension,_ _constricted pupils and blurred vision._ _Deaths are uncommon._

 _(3) killing frost (or black frost) \- a condition seen in crops when the humidity is too low for frost to form, but the temperature falls so low that plant tissues freeze and die, becoming blackened._

 _(4) "Havey-cavey business" is Regency slang for "suspicious goings-on"_

 _(5)_ _"Glumping" is Regency slang for "sulking"_

 _(6) "Doing it much too brown" is Regency slang for "overdoing it so it is not credible"_

 _(7) "Dangling after" is Regency slang for "hanging about, enamoured of"_

(8) Much of the text and dialogue during scenes at Netherfield Park was directly but slightly modified from Jane Austen, Chapters 11 and 12 of _Pride and Prejudice_ (1813)

* * *

 _ **All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note:_

 _Ack! The struggle is real...writer's block, that is._

* * *

Chapter 7

Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to the piano-forte and after a polite request that Elizabeth lead the way, which the other as politely and more earnestly declined, she seated herself. Mrs Hurst sang with her sister and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr Darcy's eyes were fixed on her.

When the sisters had tired of performing and moved to sit near Jane, Darcy approached the instrument and asked Elizabeth if she played and sang as well.

"Only a little and very poorly at that," she demurred.

He was curious as to whether the real flesh and blood Elizabeth might possibly sing as well as his Elizabeth from his dream. "Will you not play for us, Miss Elizabeth? I would judge your adequacy for myself," he said light-heartedly.

"Ah, I suspect your design in encouraging me, despite my modest assertion that I indeed play poorly, is to then declare me not accomplished enough." Elizabeth smiled impertinently, "I would not wish to excite your anticipation."

Darcy smiled in return and gestured towards the piano-forte, one arm sweeping wide, indicating she should play. He returned to his chair across the room. She shuffled through the music until she found a piece that she could play and sing tolerably well and sat at the instrument. Her sweet soprano voice filled the room as her fingers stroked the ivory keys.

 _As I walk'd thro' the meadows_ _  
_ _To take the fresh air,_ _  
_ _The flowers were blooming and gay;_ _  
_ _I heard a young damsel so sweetly asinging_ _  
_ _Her cheeks like the blossom in May._

 _Said I, Pretty maiden, and how came you here_ _  
_ _In the meadows this morning so soon?_ _  
_ _The maid she replied: For to gather some may,_ _  
_ _For the trees they are all in full bloom._

Darcy sat entranced. Her voice _was_ the same as from his dream the night before, melodic and lovely. Somehow he knew it would be. Closing his eyes, he let her voice wash over him.

 _Said I: Pretty maiden, shall I go with you,_ _  
_ _To the meadows to gather some may?_ _  
_ _O no, sir, she said, I would rather refuse,_ _  
_ _For I fear you would lead me astray._

 _Then I took this fair maid by the lilywhite hand;_ _  
_ _On the green mossy bank we sat down;_ _  
_ _And I placed a kiss on her sweet rosy lips,_ _  
_ _While the small birds were singing around._

 _And when we arose from the green mossy bank,_ _  
_ _To the meadows we wander'd away;_ _  
_ _I placed my love on a primrose bank_ _  
_ _While I pick'd her a handful of may._

 _Then early next morning I made her my bride,_ _  
_ _That the world might have nothing to say;_ _  
_ _The bells they did ring and the birds they did sing,_ _  
_ _And I crown'd her the sweet Queen of May._ (1)

With the last notes lingering in the room, Darcy opened his eyes to see Elizabeth looking at him, one brow arched in mock defiance. "Was it all you hoped it would be, sir?" she asked pertly.

"Absolutely," he replied sincerely, one side of his mouth quirking up in an answering smile. He stood and crossed the room.

Elizabeth laughed brightly, "I did warn you."

Arriving at her side, he offered her his hand, assisting her up from the bench, intending to escort her back to her chair. What he did not anticipate was the thrilling jolt from the contact of their bare hands. He heard her sharp intake of breath echoing his feelings and his eyes flew to hers. He did not imagine the spark of awareness he saw there and he felt a corresponding sensation, the cadence of his heart increasing suddenly. They remained unmoving, hand in hand, her bright eyes looking expectantly at him.

Jane looked curiously at the couple as they stood entranced with each other and becoming uneasy with the amount of time they stood gazing at each other, cleared her throat a little louder than necessary. "Lizzy, your performance was lovely, as always," she declared.

Jane saw Elizabeth startle and the spell was broken. Darcy offered his arm and the couple strolled across the room where Elizabeth was settled next to her sister.

"I wholeheartedly concur, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley soundly endorsed Jane's praise, his eyes fixed on the fair-haired beauty. Jane ducked her head shyly, a delicate blush appearing on her cheeks. Elizabeth smiled knowingly, observing the interaction between Jane and Bingley.

Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were impolitely whispering between themselves and offered neither praise nor censure of Elizabeth's performance. Mr Hurst was inelegantly sprawled out on the chesterfield (2), his snores audible now that the musical interlude had concluded. Darcy, feigning interest in Jane and Bingley's conversation, sat admiring Elizabeth and contemplating his feelings for her.

After a short period of time engaged in conversation with her sister and Mr Bingley, Jane truly had begun to tire from the morning's events away from the sick-room. She asked if Elizabeth would accompany her upstairs and they politely took their leave.

Attending to Jane's request, Elizabeth escorted her sister to her chamber. She was certain that her sister had observed what had transpired between her and Mr Darcy at the piano-forte and knew that questions would soon be forthcoming. Elizabeth blushed at the memory of the sensations that she had experienced. She found the entire encounter exhilarating and wondered at the earliest opportunity she would have to be in his presence again.

As soon as the door was securely shut, Jane grabbed Elizabeth's arm and dragged her to the bed. Pulling her down to sit, Jane then took her sister's hand in hers and asked breathlessly, "What in the world was going on between you and Mr Darcy, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth groaned and fell back heavily on the bed, her forearm covering her eyes. "Do you think anyone else noticed, Jane?"

Concern filled Jane's countenance and she paused thoughtfully before answering. "I do not think Mr Bingley noticed." Elizabeth chuckled at this whilst Jane continued, "but I am afraid that his sisters are more astute." A stifled groan escaped and Elizabeth removed her arm from her brow, letting it fall limply at her side.

"I think that this might push Miss Bingley to act more spitefully towards me. I am encroaching on her claim or so _she_ believes." Jane furrowed her brow in concern.

Elizabeth pushed herself upright and remained supported by her elbows. "I will be _en garde_ , Jane. Do not fear." She smiled reassuringly, "Besides, we will be at home at Longbourn on the morrow."

"Lizzy . . .," Jane began carefully, "how do you feel about Mr Darcy?"

Nervously jumping to her feet, Elizabeth began pacing between the bed and the window.

"He is most decidedly handsome and rich," her sister acknowledged, "but do you like him?"

"I have never felt anything like this before, Jane! It is as if there are a million butterflies in my belly when I am near him. My heart races and I feel as if I cannot get enough air. When we touch, my skin tingles and every nerve is ablaze." Elizabeth stopped her pacing and looked earnestly at her sister. "If he enters the room, I know he is there, even if I cannot see him. I am love-struck just as sure as if I was hit by a bolt of lightning. It is madness, no doubt!" She threw both hands in the air in a gesture of exasperation and pivoting on her heel, strode to the window.

Leaning her shoulder against the frame, she folded her arms across her chest in front of her. She sighed and let her head rest on the wood casing, staring unseeingly outside. Jane smiled to herself. She had never known Lizzy to be flustered over a gentleman. Lizzy, who always kept a cool head and was never fraught with excessive agitation, was currently distracted and discomposed.

Elizabeth turned away from the window to face the room again. Tucking her arms behind her back, she slumped against the wall using it to support her weight. She tilted her head back so that she was looking at the ceiling. Jane sat serenely, allowing her sister time to come to terms with her new feelings. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth lowered her chin to look at her sister and said, "Jane, if we do not leave Netherfield tomorrow, I fear that my heart will be irretrievably engaged." Jane's eyes widened in astonishment. _She is in love!_

Quietly deliberating for a few moments, her thoughts in turmoil, Elizabeth said wistfully, "He can have no reason to want me. My dowry is insignificant and I am not so high in the instep to believe that I shine everyone else down." (3, 4)

"Oh Lizzy! His wealth means that he may marry where he wishes. And let me remind you that he is a gentleman and you are a gentleman's daughter, so you are equal in the eyes of society." Jane walked over to her sister and placed her hand gently on her cheek. "You are beautiful, Lizzy, both on the outside and in your heart. Any gentleman would be blind, deaf, and dumb if he could not see that."

The sisters embraced each other and Elizabeth said playfully, over Jane's shoulder, "He would be better off being deaf, you know. Not being able to hear my impertinence is sure to make me ten times more handsome."

"Oh, Lizzy! Really!" Jane drew back and grabbed Elizabeth by her shoulders. "Do not listen to what my mother says. She thinks _Lydia_ is the perfect daughter and there is not one remark in a hundred that leaves _her_ mouth that is not beyond silly."

Elizabeth covered her mouth, feigning shock. "Jane, that is the most uncharitable thing I have ever heard you say!" Unable to hold back her smile, Elizabeth said laughingly, "Brava!" Jane giggled.

Suddenly realising that she was fatigued, Jane stated that she desired to rest for awhile. Elizabeth assisted her to undress and then sat at the bedside until she fell asleep. Whilst she watched over her sister, she contemplated how she might encounter Mr Darcy so they could talk before she left on the morrow. There had been no chance to catch him alone and she was frustrated.

Walking to the window and looking out, she saw that the sun was bright and the day appeared fine. With such a day as this, she could not be constrained inside. Having missed her regular excursions since being away from home, she felt the lure of the sunshine and fresh air and happily decided to go for a walk.

Outside the air was brisk, but the warmth of the sun made the day more pleasant. After a few minutes of physical exertion, Elizabeth no longer felt the chill and enjoyed her solitary excursion throughout the grounds of Netherfield. Hearing a deep bark, she turned to find a large, dark-grey hound bounding towards her. The dog skidded to a stop directly in front of her and dropped a large stick at her feet. It lowered its head on its front paws, its hind end elevated with tail wagging fiercely.

Elizabeth smiled gaily. "Aww, you want to play, do you?" The dog woofed gently in reply. She picked up the stick and immediately the dog grabbed the other end with its teeth. She growled playfully and wriggled her end of the stick back and forth enticing the dog to do the same.

Observing from his chamber window above, Darcy leaned against the frame and watched the game being played below. He had admonished himself repeatedly over the better part of the past week that he could not fall in love with her. His rational mind was in accord with this sentiment, however, his heart was not. _The heart wants what the heart wants and there is nothing to be done when Cupid's arrow hits its mark,_ he mused _._ He could no longer deny his feelings or repress them.

He sighed, relinquishing the last of the feeble excuses he had contrived to use as a blockade against his burgeoning passion for her. _The husband of Miss Elizabeth Bennet must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to his situation, that he could upon the whole, have no cause to complain._ He smiled knowingly as he imagined what those extraordinary sources of happiness might include. _Her sense of humour, her intelligence, her eyes, her lips..._

The bucolic scene outside his window captured his complete attention, keeping all other duties and obligations suppressed. Somewhere in the far reaches of his consciousness, he remembered that his correspondence was waiting to be completed. He had received two letters from Georgiana recently and one from his cousin, Richard, and he had not answered either one. In addition, he had an unopened letter from his steward at Pemberley to read. All of this he had resolved to remedy this afternoon, but seeing her so playful and happy, he only felt a compelling need to be close to her again. Suddenly standing upright, he hurried out of his chamber so that he might join her outside.

Rushing down the stairs, he headed for the front door where the butler eyed him curiously. After assisting him to don his overcoat, the butler opened the door for Darcy, watching as the gentleman bounded down the steps and practically dashed around the corner of the manor. The butler shook his head in wonder as he closed the door behind him.

Abandoning the game of shake-the-stick, Elizabeth was now playing fetch with the dog. She grabbed the stick attempting to avoid the slimy areas and flung it as far away from her as she could. The dog woofed in happiness and ran off to retrieve its prize. Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed heartily. The sound stopped Darcy in his tracks. Her laugh was nothing like the forced tinkling he heard in the ballrooms and drawing rooms in Town. This laugh was exuberant and real. He wanted this woman. Wanted her in his life, in his bed . . . He was bewitched.

"Miss Elizabeth, may I join you?" he enquired.

Still smiling, Elizabeth answered him. "Of course, sir. If you don't mind playing with the dog." He smiled in return, his dimples displayed in full force, for her playfulness was infectious. Her breath caught in her throat at the gentleman's striking features combined with a genuinely happy smile. _That is the very first time I have seen him look so carefree and happy. Those dimples are going to be the death of me!_

The dog returned with its stick and stopped in front of them, trying to decide with whom to play. Turning to look at Elizabeth, the dog wagged its tail and moved toward her. She laughed delightedly and tugged on the end dangling from its mouth. After a few moments of back and forth, the dog let go and bounded away, turning its head back to look at her and letting out a protesting woof for her tardiness. Elizabeth flung the stick into the air and grinned as her canine companion tore off after it.

Darcy proffered his arm and asked if she would accompany him on a walk. She accepted and they strolled arm-in-arm towards the mostly brown and practically barren gardens.

"Mr Darcy, you appear to be much recovered from your ordeal."

He grimaced at the memory of casting up his accounts through the long night. (5) "Yes, I am feeling much better, thank you. However, I do not think I will look upon another mushroom with much charity or without feeling nauseated ever again."

Elizabeth laughed at this, her eyes twinkling. "I suppose not, and neither shall I, I am afraid." This elicited a chuckle from Darcy.

They strolled in companionable silence for awhile until Elizabeth, unable to wait any longer to discuss the supernatural visitations they had witnessed, began speaking cautiously, "I have been thinking of your banshee. During last night's events, I was fearful that the hag's warning was heralding _your_ death. Thank goodness that it was not so." She looked at him, her concern and relief evident. He smiled grimly.

Elizabeth continued, "As you are aware, the legend of the _bean sidhe_ describes the banshee's appearance in relation to the death of the unfortunate individual who hears the banshee's keening wail. And if not their own death, then it forewarns of a death in the family." Here, she paused meaningfully, assessing Darcy's countenance for his reaction to this statement.

Darcy frowned. After a moment, he replied, "I can only hope that what occurred was the event the banshee was attempting to warn me about. If not, I shudder to think of what else might transpire and to whom."

Elizabeth professed carefully, "I hope so, too, but I cannot help but believe that the banshee is a harbinger of death and no death has yet occurred."

This comment stopped Darcy in his tracks and he looked at her intently. Truth be told, he had considered this very thing but was reluctant to say so aloud. He was fearful that someone he loved would be the real victim. Elizabeth sensed his apprehension and gently squeezed his arm with her free hand. She left it there in a gesture of comfort and Darcy let his hand rest atop hers.

At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley. Darcy sighed in frustration, carefully removing his hand from hers so as to be unobserved by Miss Bingley. _Am I never to have more than a moment alone with Elizabeth?_

"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley, in some confusion, seeing the couple arm-in-arm.

"You used us abominably ill," declared Mrs Hurst, "in running away without telling us that you were coming out."

Taking Darcy's free arm, Miss Bingley invited herself on their walk. The path just admitted three. Darcy felt their rudeness and immediately said, "This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue."

Although reluctant to give up her place at Mr Darcy's side, Elizabeth had been away from Jane for quite some time. She initiated their separation, letting her hand slowly slide above his elbow and over his muscled arm, stating, "No, no, I must return to my sister. You three may walk together." Darcy felt his muscle twitch in response to her touch and watched her walk away, greatly feeling her loss.

"Please give dear Jane our good wishes." Miss Bingley smiled sweetly but Elizabeth knew better. She was gloating at having thwarted Elizabeth's solitary walk with Mr Darcy. Mrs Hurst quickly claimed his other arm and the sisters could be heard giggling as the trio set off for their walk.

Darcy rolled his eyes in frustration at Miss Bingley, propriety, and himself. _Bloody hell! Sometimes being a gentleman is absolutely torturous_ , he thought indignantly. He was at his wit's end with Miss Bingley's rude machinations and outright scheming. He most definitely needed to discuss her shameless and unwanted pursuit of him with Charles.

* * *

Jane was sufficiently recovered from her recent poor health except for some residual tiredness. She insisted on coming down to dinner that evening. It was a subdued affair, everyone cognisant of the harrowing events of the night before. There were no mushrooms in sight.

After dinner, the Misses Bennet joined the Netherfield party in the drawing room. The loo table, however, did not appear. Mr Darcy commenced writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Mr Hurst and Mr Bingley were at piquet and Mrs Hurst and Jane were observing their game. Elizabeth took up some needlework and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his unwanted companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect indifference with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue. Miss Bingley's blatant disregard of Darcy's noticeable disinterest was not unexpected although it was entertaining in its ridiculousness.

Miss Bingley was prowling around the desk at which Darcy sat. "How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!" she exclaimed. He made no answer.

She made another attempt. "You write uncommonly fast," Miss Bingley observed.

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

Elizabeth had to swallow her laughter at Miss Bingley's pathetic attempts to engage Mr Darcy and at his patent mockery.

"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!"

Silence. "It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours."

Miss Bingley moved closer to the desk and slid her hand along the front edge, only inches from her quarry. "Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."

"I have already told her so once, by your desire." He continued to write, refusing to look up at her.

After several moments, Miss Bingley tried again. "I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."

"Thank you, but I always mend my own," Darcy said with barely concealed annoyance. Elizabeth choked down her snort of amusement.

"How can you contrive to write so even?" He was silent. "Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table. I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's."

Thoroughly irritated now, but keeping his countenance, Darcy replied evenly, "Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not room to do them justice."

"Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr Darcy?"

"They are generally long, but whether always charming, it is not for me to determine." He was practically gritting his teeth at her incessant and nearly one-sided conversation.

"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill."

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," her brother declared teasingly, "because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do you not, Darcy?"

"My style of writing is very different from yours," he conceded, glad that Bingley had entered the conversation.

"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable." She waved her hand dismissively through the air. "He leaves out half his words and blots the rest."

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not the time to express them by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

"Your humility, Mr Bingley," said Elizabeth, "makes it difficult to criticise you."

"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion and sometimes an indirect boast."

"And which of the two do you call my little recent piece of modesty?"

"The indirect boast, for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which if not admirable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing any thing with quickness is always much prized by the possessor and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs Bennet the other morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of accolade, of compliment to yourself. And yet, what is there so very laudable in a rash haste which must leave very necessary business undone and can be of no real advantage to yourself or any one else?"

"Certainly this is too much," exclaimed Bingley, "to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I believed what I said of myself to be true and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of hasty impulsiveness merely to show off before the ladies."

Darcy looked at his friend in mock disbelief. "I dare say you believed it but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such rapidity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know. And if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, "Bingley, you had better stay till next week,'' you would probably do it. You would probably not go and, at another word, might stay a month."

"You have only proved by this," exclaimed Elizabeth, "that Mr Bingley was entirely too modest in relating his own character. You have revealed his ability to yield readily and without complaint when a friend desires to change plans, which I dare say, is a credit to him."

"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my nature. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend, for he would certainly think the better of me if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial and ride off as fast as I could."

"Would Mr Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention to have more validity if you did not change your mind once you had decided upon it?" Elizabeth enquired of Mr Bingley.

"Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter. Darcy must speak for himself."

Darcy regarded Elizabeth thoughtfully, his letter forgotten for the moment. "You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety."

"To yield readily, easily, to the persuasion of a friend is of no value to you," Elizabeth concluded.

"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either."

"You appear to me, Mr Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Mr Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance occurs at which point we can discuss the understanding of his behaviour. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"

Darcy turned in full to face Elizabeth, settling comfortably into the debate. "Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to be applied to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?"

"By all means," exclaimed Bingley wryly, "let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size, for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware. I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places, at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do." Mr Darcy smiled, but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was rather offended and, therefore, checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly resented the indignity he had received and chided her brother for talking such nonsense.

"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend. "You dislike an argument and want to silence this."

"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful and then you may say whatever you like about me." He waved his hand in the air as a signal that he was finished with the current conversation.

Elizabeth began to better comprehend the relationship between the two friends. Upon first meeting, she was surprised that they had established such a close bond. But spending time with them this past week and now having more information as a result of this conversation, Elizabeth perceived that the characteristics that one gentleman thought lacking in himself were to be found in the disposition of the other gentleman and so a sort of balance was achieved.

"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side and Mr Darcy had much better finish his letter," Mr Darcy took her advice and did finish his letter. (6)

* * *

 _November 17th_

 _Netherfield Hall_

 _Hertfordshire_

 _Dearest Georgiana,_

 _Your recent letter has provided me with much comfort as it sounds as if you are enjoying your time with Mrs Annesley. As with most disappointments in life, recovery from disheartening emotions may be a long and wearisome process. It gladdens me to hear that you are feeling better._

 _I must apologise for the recent lapse in my correspondence. I have been preoccupied with certain events at Netherfield. The Bingley's have been hosting two ladies, Miss Jane Bennet and her sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Jane Bennet fell ill whilst dining here. She rode to the estate on horseback and was caught in a downpour. She has been bedbound for the better part of the week due to a violent cold and Miss Elizabeth arrived to care for her. She is a very devoted sister and cares for her family immensely._

 _Miss Elizabeth has a penchant for reading, much like you and also honoured us by playing the piano-forte and singing at which she is very accomplished. Her voice is lovely and she plays with a 'joie de vivre' that others often lack in pursuit of technical proficiency. She also enjoys walking and I encountered her outside today laughing and playing with one of the estate hounds. I am sure that you would find her as charming as I do._

 _Miss Bingley has been a satisfactory hostess and the Hursts have been entertaining whilst playing cards in the evenings. Mr Bingley is as amiable as ever and has been especially kind towards Miss Jane Bennet whilst she regains her health._

 _Your cousin, Fitz, has no doubt already told you that he is to be stationed here in Hertfordshire for several months in order to provide training for the militia. He has orders to arrive within a fortnight and shall accompany you and Mrs Annesley to Netherfield if you are amenable to the idea. If he is not at Pemberley already, he will be there soon, likely before this letter reaches you._

 _I miss you, dear heart, and hope to see you very soon. Safe journey_

 _Your loving brother,_

 _William_

* * *

 _November 17th_

 _Netherfield Hall_

 _Hertfordshire_

 _Fitz,_

 _I was pleased to receive your letter and even more gladdened to hear that you may very soon be in the same county in which I am currently residing. I know not what business the King has you running about the countryside for, but I am eager to see you again_.

 _I have been considering your suggestion in regards to having Georgiana travel to Hertfordshire whilst you remain here. If she is willing to travel, I should like to see her situated at Netherfield for my remaining time here as well. We have been separated long enough. I have already consulted with Bingley on this and he has consented whole-heartedly._

 _I am glad that this turn of events has occurred as I am not ready to leave Hertfordshire just yet. I have met the most extraordinary woman, Miss Bennet of Longbourn, and I am in need of your common sense and good advice. I do not, however, need your incessant teasing although I am sure there are no possible means of escaping that! I am desperate enough that I will endure it with little complaint. That is all the information you will receive for now. I hope that you are suffering from agonising curiosity as this will satisfy me as a means to reciprocate what little torment I may be able to inflict on you before you arrive to excruciate me._

 _God speed._

 _Your cousin,_

 _FD_

* * *

A/N:

 _(1) As I Walk Through The Meadow(s) - Folk music is viewed primarily as a rural tradition where songs are passed down by word of mouth. Printed folk music was extremely popular for more than four hundred years, beginning in the sixteenth century. Words to popular songs were printed on sheets of varying lengths. They came to be known as broadsides. Broadsides originally had no music but a note that the words were sung to a well known tune. Broadsides were popular in Britain, Holland, France, Italy, Spain and Germany and later in America. You can hear a live version of this song by English Ayres at magnatune dot com._

 _(2) A chesterfield is a sofa with padded arms and a back of the same height, curved outward at the top._

 _(3) "High in the instep" is Regency slang for "haughty, proud"_

 _(4) "Shine everyone else down" is Regency slang for "be the most attractive"_

 _(5) "Casting up one's accounts" is Regency slang for "vomiting"_

 _(6)_ _Much of the text and dialogue during scenes at Netherfield Park was directly but slightly modified from Jane Austen, Chapter 10 of_ Pride and Prejudice _(1813)_

* * *

 _ **All**_ _**characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved.**_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Netherfield party, having retired for the night, went their separate ways throughout the house. Elizabeth arrived at her chamber after tucking Jane into her own bed. As she pulled the pins out of her hair, letting the thick tresses tumble down her back, she belatedly remembered that she had finished her borrowed book earlier that day and had nothing to read. She sighed and picked up her candle to make her way to the library. _At least this time I am fully dressed and not wearing my nightgown,_ she thought.

Silently traversing the stairs, Elizabeth heard a peculiar sound as she descended into the entrance hall. A solid crack emanated from around the corner and intrigued, she followed the direction of the sound until she saw light spilling out from an open doorway. The crack was louder this time as she peered around the door frame and she stopped short at the sight before her. Outside of a book, she had never seen a billiards table before.

Darcy was bent over at the waist, his back to her, with a cue stick in both hands. He pulled his right arm back, steadied his aim and thrust the stick forward with controlled strength. As the cue ball hit its target, Elizabeth watched the red billiard ball roll down the table and drop into the pocket at the corner. She leaned against the door frame to observe him play.

He was in a state of partial undress, his jacket and cravat having been removed. It was easier to play when not confined by the tight fabric. Darcy straightened up to watch one more coloured ball cross the table after taking another shot. As it dropped into the opposite corner pocket, he stood leaning on the cue stick, assessing his next move. He walked to the side of the billiards table and leant over to find his line of sight. As he turned towards the doorway, he saw her standing there and immediately stood upright, his heart pounding. It was uncanny the way she had materialised just as he was thinking about her.

"Miss Elizabeth," he bowed. She gave a small curtsey in reply, then smiling, she fully entered the room. He was mesmerised by her appearance as he noted her chestnut hair flowing down her back. It reminded him of the first day she had walked to Netherfield and how wild and beautiful she had appeared.

"I had no idea there was a billiards room here at Netherfield," she exclaimed, studying the table in front of her. "I have always wondered what it was like. My father has spoken of many pleasurable hours at university spent playing the game, but I have only read about it."

Walking along the table edge, Elizabeth lightly rubbed her fingers along the smooth rail as she made her way towards Darcy. He watched her small, elegant hand caress the polished, sleek wood until it stopped a few inches from him. He looked up and met her gaze, her hazel eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

"Yes, it is a very enjoyable way to pass one's time." He winced at the inanity of his comment. _What is the matter with me? I have spoken to her all week and now I find myself tongue-tied._

"Mr Darcy," she began thoughtfully, "do you think you could teach me to play? I am sure that I will not have very many opportunities to do so as we leave Netherfield tomorrow. There are no guarantees that I will be invited back." She said this last statement with some acerbity, thinking about the mutual dislike between her and Miss Bingley.

He could deny her nothing, he realised, and when he comprehended that he could finally spend some time alone with her, he was even more persuaded. The others had retired and the door was wide open; propriety would be served.

"I would be happy to show you how to play," he smiled at her warmly. "The first thing you need is a cue." He handed her his cue stick, the wood warm where he had gripped it.

She held the cue in both hands as she had seen him do earlier, thrusting it back and forth gently in the air. Darcy asked hesitantly, "May I?" and gestured towards her hands. She nodded.

He walked up behind her, leaving a small amount of space between them, and gently wrapped his arms around her, taking the cue stick in his left hand. She stiffened in shock for a moment, but then he felt her body relax as he placed his right hand on top of hers so they were both gripping the cue. Moving his left hand to reposition hers, his large hand engulfed her smaller one as he grasped it so that he could better guide her aim.

"Now, align the white ball with a coloured ball and then align the cue stick with the white ball. See the red ball there?" he pointed. She nodded. "It is halfway between the cue ball and the far corner pocket. Do you know the rules?"

"You must strike the cue ball first and it in turn must strike the billiard ball. The object is to sink the billiard balls in the table pockets," she said confidently. Darcy replied, "Good."

He swallowed hard at what was to happen next, hoping he could maintain control of himself. Taking a deep breath, he closed the small gap between their bodies as he gently applied downward pressure on the cue stick to position them, bent forward at the waist, in order to line up the shot. Pressed fully against her back, he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth and softness of her body in his arms. He took another deep breath to steady himself and inhaled her wildflower scent, further fuelling his arousal. Without warning, she shifted her weight to her back foot and wiggled a little bit to settle herself in the right position to hit the cue ball. His eyes flew open wide and he almost groaned aloud in sweet agony as her _derriere_ pressed into him.

Lost in the sensation of the intimate contact of their bodies, he did not immediately register her enquiry until she repeated her question. "What do I do now, Mr Darcy?"

"Uh . . . yes . . ." he stammered stupidly. "Now . . ." He cleared his throat and started again. "Now, move the cue stick closer to the white ball. Remember, it is important that you allow it to slide loosely through the fingers of your left hand." He demonstrated, pushing and pulling the stick between their fingers a few inches away from the cue ball.

"Pull the cue back." He guided her right arm back with his hand, "and then aim for the centre of the cue ball." He moved their right arms in unison, thrusting the stick forward and striking the white ball. It made a satisfying crack as it hit the red ball. Carefully watching the billiard ball move towards the intended pocket, Elizabeth began to straighten up, forcing Darcy to do the same. He took a small step backwards.

The billiard ball dropped easily into the pocket and Elizabeth cried out with delight. She dropped the cue on the table and whirled around excitedly where she suddenly came face-to-face with Mr Darcy. Her wide smile started to wane as she became aware of the intense, impassioned look in his eyes. Shyly, she lowered her gaze to where his cravat was supposed to be, his throat bare. He watched her eyes widen in surprise at seeing his skin exposed and then drop slightly lower to the top of his chest. At the sight of his dark hair peeking through the opening of his shirt where the laces were loose, he heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Elizabeth." It was almost a plea, his voice low and dark with desire.

She looked up at him, drawing in a quivering breath. He was mesmerised by her beautiful eyes, the way they displayed her emotions fascinated him. The moment stretched out before him, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation, and for once in his life he allowed himself to follow his own wants and needs. He could not —would not—deny himself any longer.

He brought both hands to her face, gently slipping them under either side of her jaw, one thumb slowly caressing her cheek. Her skin felt like silk under his fingertips. She stood silent and still, her eyes locked with his, completely trusting him. Lowering his hand to trace her bottom lip with his thumb, he watched as her lips parted, her pink tongue flashing as she moistened her lips, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. He leant in, so close he could feel her warm breath against his skin, and he hesitated for a moment, allowing her to stop this if she wished it so. Closing his eyes, he moved forward only a fraction of an inch to press his lips to hers in a gentle caress. He could think of nothing other than the woman in his arms, her lips soft and warm.

He kissed the corner of her mouth and then trailed kisses across her jaw. When he heard her sigh of satisfaction, his heartbeat quickened in response. He wanted more. He wanted to taste her. Finding her mouth again, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip making her gasp. Taking advantage of her slightly open mouth to deepen the kiss, he revelled in the sweetness of her taste as he found her tongue with his. His beautiful maiden did not pull away but boldly returned the sensual touch she had just learnt from him.

When he felt Elizabeth kissing him in return, a hot flash of wild desire burned through him. He slid one hand over the soft skin below her jaw and buried his fingers in the thick hair at the nape of her neck. His other hand moved down her spine, only to stop at the small of her back, to press her body closer to his.

The kiss became more heated, more urgent, and he thought that he would go up in flames when he felt her hands at his waist, slipping over his waistcoat and around his sides. Her hands finally rested on his back and pulled him closer, so close that their bodies were touching everywhere, her soft breasts pressed into his hard chest. He was lost . . . So lost. . . He could not think coherently, she filled his senses so completely.

He knew not how much time had passed, but the chiming of the mantle clock pierced the sensual haze he was in and he slowly pulled back from her sweet lips. She laid her head on his chest and he tucked her under his chin, resting gently on top of her head. They stood there panting, trembling, still holding on to one another, as their breathing slowed and reason returned.

He kissed the top of her head before he separated their bodies to look at her face. He hoped beyond all hope that she felt the same way he did and he thought his heart might crack if he saw any emotion reflected there other than the pure bliss he was feeling. His stomach knotted up in anticipation as she coyly tilted up her face, her long lashes sweeping upward to reveal her perfect hazel eyes, the gold flecks sparkling. She locked on to his gaze and there he saw all that he had ever wished for. His chest tightened, feeling full to bursting, and he drew her near again to place a lingering kiss on her forehead.

"Elizabeth, I did not mean for this to happen now . . . not yet," he paused, "but I am not sorry that it did."

"Sir, I will _never_ be sorry about that kiss." She brought her hand up to touch her kiss-swollen lips and smiled a slow smile that was innocently seductive as she unknowingly incited his passion again. Fearing that he would kiss her all night and never wish to let her go, he gently pulled away, keeping her hand in his to remain connected to her.

"Fitzwilliam," he offered. She looked at him, perplexed.

"My Christian name is Fitzwilliam."

She repeated it softly, testing it, "Fitzwilliam . . . " Darcy was startled at the warmth that stole through him just from hearing her voice say his name. No one had called him that since before his mother, the only woman who held his heart until now, had died. He squeezed her hand gently.

"My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, you can have no doubt at this moment as to how I feel about you." She blushed beautifully at his declaration. "I would like to call on you at Longbourn this week if I may."

"I would like that very much, Fitzwilliam." She smiled warmly at him. "Have I mentioned that I like to take a solitary walk practically every morning after the sun rises? There is one particular path between Netherfield and Longbourn that is rather lovely and I rarely encounter anyone else on my excursions."

He caught her meaning immediately and his mouth quirked up in a knowing, one-sided smile. "Ah, I imagine that there is a beautiful view from there," he said, imagining a vision of Elizabeth, standing in the early morning sunlight, her skin glistening from exertion and her eyes brightened by exercise.

He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss there. He felt her tremor at his touch and he smiled against the soft skin of her hand. He lowered her hand and as he righted himself their gazes met, glowing with unmistakeable happiness and mutual affection.

* * *

The sound of hoof beats and the rumbling of a carriage pulling up to the tiny cottage alerted the tenant that her illustrious guest had arrived. Violent shaking wracked the old woman, her thin body unable to stave off the coughing fit. When she could breathe easy again, she wrapped her wool shawl tighter around her and put the water on the fire to heat for tea. The knock on the door was rapid and succinct. The old woman shuffled slowly towards the door, opening it to the chilly night. Dead leaves swirled on the stoop and through the air, accompanied by the rustling of the bare trees in the cold night wind. The visitor's identity was concealed by a dark cloak.

"Enter," the old woman stated without fanfare, as she left the visitor standing on the stoop with the door wide open. She shuffled back towards the fire and sat in one of the two chairs at the scarred wooden table. The door shut with a thud and the visitor crossed the small room, throwing the hood of the cloak back before sitting at the table in the opposite chair. The two eyed each other suspiciously.

"Make haste, Gypsy!" The visitor was eager to get some answers and leave the wretched hovel as soon as possible.

The old woman extended her arm out over the table with her palm up expectantly. She smiled at her guest, her teeth mostly broken and discoloured. Digging around until a few coins were produced, the visitor dropped them into the old woman's hand making sure not to touch her. She cackled at that as the coins swiftly disappeared under her shawl.

The old woman reached for a dented tin to her right and opened it. Handing her guest a spoon, she instructed, "Stir the dry tea before you measure it out."

The visitor obeyed and then was given an additional command to scoop a specified amount of loose tea into the wide-brimmed china cup. Then the old woman did the same and added it to the cup sitting in front of her. Turning towards the fire, she carefully removed the kettle and poured hot water into both cups.

"Stir and concentrate on the particular questions for which you wish to receive an answer."

The visitor complied and set the spoon on the saucer with a soft clink. A loud pop came from the fire and the logs shifted sending orange-red sparks into the air. The visitor turned at the sound and watched the floating ash as it cooled, drifting downward.

"When the tea is ready, drink it. You must leave about this much of the brew in the bottom of the cup for the reading to occur." The old woman spread her thumb and forefinger apart indicating about a quarter of an inch of space between them.

Turning slowly from the fire, the visitor met the gaze of the old woman and held it without blinking. The old woman gasped slightly but could not look away. The evil that lurked in the visitor's eyes launched a rippling shudder through her. She had seen and experienced many, many things in her long lifetime, but the visitor scared her unequivocally. No conversation was exchanged as they sat waiting for the brew to cool.

When the tea was suitable for drinking, the visitor sipped it with elegant manners similar to those seen in the grand ballrooms of London. The action was incongruous in the draughty and cramped space that passed for an abode. Having left the requisite amount of tea in the bottom of the china cup, the visitor lifted the cup in anticipation of handing it to the old woman. The latter held her hand up, palm out, halting the transfer in mid-air. She pulled the visitor's saucer towards her and then took a serviette, flicked it open in the air and placed it over the saucer.

Receiving the cup with both hands, she swirled it three times in a clockwise direction leaving the tea leaves suspended in the dark liquid. Careful not to splash too much, the old woman quickly flipped the cup facedown onto the serviette-covered saucer, letting it rest for a few seconds. Turning the china cup upright, she grunted in satisfaction at the tea leaves remaining along the sides and bottom. The old woman observed that there were still a couple of distinct drops of tea left in the cup. Near the handle of the cup, there was a very large clump of tea leaves and some short tea-stalks remained in the dregs. Reading the leaves in a clockwise motion starting at the handle, the old woman mumbled and muttered unintelligible sounds, tut-tutting intermittently.

As time passed, the visitor became impatient and could not keep silent any longer.

"Well? What do you see?" the visitor demanded. "Tell me!"

The old woman did not acknowledge the interruption but continued to gaze at the cup until she was satisfied. Looking up, she was arrested by the cold stare of the visitor across the table. Finally blinking, the old woman tilted the tea cup so that they could both see inside.

"First, these drops that remained behind after draining the cup . . . They represent 'tears'. The very large clump here, near the handle," she stated, pointing, "means that trouble caused by your own making will come."

The visitor glared, "Continue."

Pointing at the short tea-stalks, the old woman said, "These indicate a woman . . . And this is the letter "E"," as she pointed at another configuration of tea leaves in the shape of a backwards number three. "This dot and this dot," she pointed next to the 'E' shape, "indicate importance. The more dots, the more importance it signifies. The 'E' is next to a downward pointing triangle, which means that this person is a stranger to you and failure is imminent. The tea leaves are near the rim of the cup indicating that this may happen soon, in a few months time."

The visitor remained quiet but watchful. Carefully turning the china cup in her hands, the old woman pointed out a few more symbols.

"Here is a monkey . . . A flattering mischief-maker. This is a chain meaning a wedding or engagement. And here . . . is a forked line ending in a closed padlock. There are decisions to be made and the padlock is a warning." The old woman paused, looking closely at the inside of the cup.

"I must tell you that there are many bad omens here in the leaves. An owl which signifies gossip, scandal, failure. An alligator foretelling treachery, an accident, and . . . " The old woman gasped sharply, dropping the cup. Her rheumy eyes flew up to look at the visitor accusingly. (1)

The visitor did not look surprised at the reaction of the old woman, smiling sardonically and then laughing derisively. "Ah, Gypsy, you are very astute. Too bad we do not have time to discuss that which you see clearly now. Read the cards before I leave, Witch," the visitor snarled.

The old woman flinched and then proceeded to clear the table. Upon her return, she sat reluctantly next to the visitor, laying a square piece of wool on the table in front of them and setting a deck of playing cards face down in the middle of the square. (2) The old woman was relieved that she was no longer sitting across the table from the visitor. She could not look directly into those eyes again. She was not sure, however, that sitting next to the visitor was much improvement.

"What is the question you wish to ask of the cards?" the old woman finally enquired.

"What do I most need to know about the situation with Darcy?"

Before touching the cards, the old woman hesitated a moment. She quieted her mind and focussed on the visitor, then proceeded to shuffle the cards carefully. When she determined the cards were shuffled adequately, the old woman held the entire deck between both hands, reflecting on the question that was posed. Laying the deck down in the middle of the wool square, the old woman took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.

"Cut the cards with your left hand, taking the bottom pile and placing it on top." The visitor completed the task with arm fully extended and a smirk on their face.

 _Ah, the visitor is confident that the outcomes they seek will be foretold in the cards tonight._ The old woman picked up the deck, taking each card from the top of the deck and placing it face-up until a seven-card horizontal line was created on the wool square. She repeated this pattern twice, making two more horizontal lines of seven cards. (3) She placed the remaining pile of cards to the side. Gently caressing the first card in the top row, the old woman began to talk in a low, strange voice.

"There are many Clubs here suggesting that you wish to achieve power but are not concerned with the many responsibilities that come with it." The old woman paused to touch another card in the top row. "The Two of Clubs shows that you have had bad luck in the past and have been disappointed by those around you. You have had opposition from friends and family at many points in your life causing you not to trust others."

The old woman moved her hand to the middle row of cards and fleetingly touched them as she spoke. "As to the present time, the Queen of Spades . . . a cruel, interfering woman . . . And the King of Spades who will cause problems in a relationship . . . He will divide and conquer, and destroy. The Seven of Hearts . . . Disappointment, someone who fails to keep a promise and backs out of plans. The Jack of Clubs . . . Someone posing as a friend and using insincere flattery to make people feel better." The old woman tapped another card. "Ah . . . The Ace of Hearts is flanked here by the Ten and the Two of Hearts . . . This indicates a love affair, a warm partnership, an engagement. But the Three of Spades means a third party is breaking into this relationship somehow."

The visitor asked excitedly, "What does the future hold?"

The old woman moved her hand to touch the bottom row of cards. "The Eight of Spades . . . False friends, traitors. Someone will betray you . . . examine all relationships closely." The visitor leaned closer. "The Nine of Spades is the most alarming card of all. It indicates loss, misery, defeat. And here it is paired with the Ace of Spades . . . Bad news . . . a death." The visitor shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

The old woman hesitated here, finally looking at the visitor. "Darcy is in love, but the bond is weak. You must make haste if you wish to change the outcome that the cards foretell. There is very little time before the connexion is complete and the lovers are eternally bonded. The woman who claims his heart, her name begins with the letter "E". Be forewarned that this path you are planning is dangerous and may end in disaster or even death for you."

Chortling mirthlessly, the visitor stood up and threw more coins on the table. "I will be victorious. I always am."

Feeling drained of energy, the old woman remained sitting as the visitor walked through the door and into the night. When the sound of the retreating carriage and horses had long faded away, the old woman retrieved the china cup from which the visitor drank. She looked closely at the tea leaves again and cringed at what she saw. The tea leaves formed the shape of a horned creature, a devil. _Evil influences_ , she shuddered.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _(1) Tasseography, the art of reading tea leaves, is a form of divination or fortune-telling that interprets patterns in tea leaves (or coffee grounds, or even wine sediment). It is traditional to read a cup from the present to the future by starting along the rim at the handle of the cup and following the symbols downward in a spiral manner, until the bottom is reached, which symbolizes the far future. There are standard symbols that have been passed down through generations but many practitioners prefer to read the leaves intuitively._

 _(2) Cartomancy is fortune-telling using a regular deck of playing cards. It is one of the oldest and most common forms of fortune-telling. The use of standard playing cards was the most popular form of card readings during the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. There were a few ancient decks of tarot cards prior to the 18th century but standard playing cards were the norm. The tarot cards we are most familiar with in the present, English-speaking world, the Rider-Waite tarot deck, were published in 1910._

 _(3) Gypsy Spread is a configuration used in reading cards for fortune-telling. It is best used by expert readers and can take up to an hour to read. From left to right, three rows of seven cards are laid. The top row of seven cards represents the past, the middle row the present and the bottom row of seven cards, the future._

* * *

 _ **All**_ _**characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved.**_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The flickering glow of the lone candle valiantly attempted to hold back the darkness, but its weak radiance was no match for the deep shadows of the large room as they crept in and emphasised Elizabeth's facial features in the mirror. She sat at the vanity in her chamber, absent-mindedly brushing her hair, the ordinary and monotonous motion in sharp contrast to the tumultuous feelings inside of her. Suspending the brush she was clutching in the middle of a stroke, she turned her head to the side and contemplated the reflection of her profile, alternately pursing her lips and sucking in her cheeks, raising her eyebrows, then frowning and finally turning to repeat the process on the opposite side.

She sighed deeply, setting the brush on the vanity top and exclaimed into the mirror, "I do not appear different in any way! I am the same as I ever was. Yet, I have experienced something of such import that I shall be forever altered by it." She gathered her shining tresses and began to weave them into a thick plait. When she was finished, she resumed the study of her countenance.

Leaning closer to the mirror she gently touched her fingers to her still swollen lips, remembering _his_ , warm & firm against hers. A shiver of yearning ran through her as she thought about how her body had responded, was still responding, to Darcy's ardent attentions. She sighed again, propping her chin in her hand. Having returned to her room with Mr Darcy —Fitzwilliam— as her escort, Elizabeth found that she was unable to fall asleep, the exhilaration of their encounter still humming through her.

 _She was so intrigued by the billiards table that she did not even notice that he was undressed, his jacket and cravat thrown carelessly to the side. The excitement she felt at having the opportunity to learn the game was quickly overshadowed by his masculine presence. Never imagining that he would teach her how to play by wrapping his arms around her and guiding her movements, she had been shocked at first by the warmth of his body pressed intimately against hers. After her initial surprise, it had felt so natural and right that she had relaxed and took her lesson in stride._

 _When the billiard ball had tumbled into the corner pocket, she was so excited that she had turned to Fitzwilliam to express herself, but the heated look gleaming in his eyes had stopped her in her tracks. Suddenly, she was all too aware of the handsome man in front of her. They were alone and oh, so very close to each other._

 _She did not know how to govern her reaction to his intensity, so she had dropped her gaze to order her thoughts. That was next to impossible when her eyes landed on the smooth skin of his bare throat. Following the expanse of his exposed skin down the vee of his open shirt, her eyes found the crisp, dark hair a few inches below his collarbone. She gasped at the sight, for she had never seen a man in that state of dishabille before. She had to fight the urge to glide her fingers over his skin and feel the coarse hair, so unlike her own smooth skin._

 _Fitzwilliam had said her name like a wish, a prayer. Lifting her head to look at him fully, their gazes caught and she could not look away, even if her life had depended on it. The entire manor could have been ablaze, flames licking dangerously close, and she would not have turned away from him at that moment. When his thumb caressed her lip, her insides swirled in response to his intimate touch, his heated gaze never wavering. It was at that very moment she knew without a doubt that she was about to receive her very first kiss and she wanted it more than anything._

 _The moment his lips touched hers, heat had flashed through her body and instinct took over. His tongue against her lips, seeking entry, had shocked her and then she tasted him fully with his deep, urgent kiss. Elizabeth had no idea that one could kiss like that let alone that it would be so pleasing to actually do so._

Fitzwilliam's attentions both thrilled and frightened her. He had awakened a hidden desire within her and she had wanted nothing more than to stay there in his arms and explore it with him. She had wanted to be as close to him as possible, a tug of strange need was pulling low in her abdomen at his touch. She was pressed against the length of his hard body and yet, it was not enough. She instinctively knew there was more, although the details were frustratingly vague.

She sighed again.

Rising from the vanity, she picked up the candle and walked to the bed, setting the candle on the nightstand and pulling back the bed linens. Crawling between the cool sheets, she thought about the brazen invitation she had issued Fitzwilliam. She had told him where and when she might be found on her daily walks so that they might spend what little time they could acquire, together and alone. _Oh, wicked, wicked Lizzy_ , she admonished herself, but in her heart she was not repentant. She wanted to be with him again and as soon as could possibly be arranged. Blowing out the candle, she snuggled down into the covers and smiled happily as she thought about her Fitzwilliam.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and clear and Darcy whistled merrily as Timmons helped him to dress for the day. His valet looked at his master suspiciously whilst he tied his cravat. He had been Darcy's valet for fifteen years and he could not recall a time that he had _whistled_. Timmons wondered if the poison toadstool episode might have caused him to become feebleminded. What a shame. At least he would look impeccable while he was witless. Timmons brushed outward across the shoulders of his jacket and down the master's arms with both hands to dislodge any indiscernible blemishes before giving him a curt nod that he was ready to leave the room.

Still whistling, Darcy walked into the hallway unaware that a relaxed smile was upon his countenance. He hied down the stairs and hooking the newel post at the bottom like an axis, he used his forward momentum to swivel and propel himself from the last step towards the dining room. It was a familiar motion from his childhood and his smile altered to become a wide grin. At the door, he paused for a moment to compose himself. He knew not who was currently inside breaking their fast, but he could not just burst in there acting like a lovesick fool. Entering the room with a deliberate pace and calm demeanour, his eyes quickly sought out Elizabeth. He found his quarry, already seated at the table, her plate filled, indicating she had only recently arrived herself. Jane was sitting next to her.

Elizabeth glanced up at him, her countenance radiating joy at his arrival, and the connection between them was instantaneous. Seeing his smile directed at her, the one that displayed his dimples fully, she felt a thrill course through her. Her answering smile was a true but muted reflection of her own contentment and delight. She could not take her eyes off of him as he lingered at the sideboard, filling his own plate.

Darcy approached the table and sat across from his lovely Elizabeth.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth. I trust that you both slept well?"

"Yes, thank you," the ladies said almost in unison.

"And you sir, I trust that you had a peaceful night as well?" Elizabeth archly enquired.

"Indeed." Darcy unfurled his serviette and proceeded to eat.

The trio sat quietly thus engaged for a few minutes. From time to time, Jane would catch the couple gazing at each other, sensing some sort of tacit message being communicated between them. Her sister especially seemed to be distracted this morning. Usually more chatty and bright, Elizabeth appeared preoccupied with her thoughts and was uncharacteristically quiet. The atmosphere in the room was restive with an underlying sense of expectation which made Jane somewhat discomfited.

Bingley and his sisters, along with Mr Hurst, entered the room and Jane sighed with relief at the inclusion of the rest of the party. Bingley greeted his guests and saving Jane for last, he smiled amiably at her, causing Jane to blush and drop her gaze demurely with a small smile on her own lips. He greeted her with the usual pleasantries whilst the others approached the sideboard. When everyone was settled at the table with their plates, the conversation resumed a more customary cadence and the curious sense of expectation Jane had experienced earlier receded. Jane did observe that her sister and Mr Darcy continued to share furtive glances across the table.

Since it had been previously decided that the Misses Bennet would depart Netherfield after they attended services this morning, Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane. After breaking their fast, the women and Mr Hurst assembled in the drawing room to await the time of departure for morning services. Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy had disappeared into the study to briefly discuss a tenant issue on which Mr Bingley needed advice.

After a quarter of an hour, Elizabeth could not sit in the drawing room any longer. She was beginning to feel fractious and did not think she could graciously stay seated and listen to Miss Bingley's insincere platitudes to herself and Jane for much longer. Stating that she had a small megrim and wanted some fresh air, Elizabeth left the drawing room and procured her pelisse and bonnet for a short walk outside hoping the somewhat chilly air would set her aright. As she walked down the garden path, Darcy recognised her figure through the window of the study causing Bingley's voice to fade into the background.

"I say, Darce, are you even listening to me?"

Darcy snapped out of his reverie and noted that he was now standing in front of the window, not able to precisely recall when he moved from his chair and crossed the room. He turned to his friend and said, "Forgive me, Charles, my mind was otherwise occupied. Might we continue this discussion upon our return from the church?"

Scrutinising his friend from behind his desk, Bingley replied, "Yes, I suppose we must. You are much too preoccupied with whatever is outside to be of much use to me right now." Bingley sat back in his chair, leant to one side and propped his chin in his hand to thoughtfully tap his fingers against his cheek. After Darcy had quit the room, Bingley went to the window to see what caused his friend's inattention. He smiled knowingly when he saw the solitary figure in the garden.

Crunching leaves beneath her half-boots as she ambled down the garden pathway, Elizabeth was relieved to finally have some time to herself. Her thoughts were in turmoil, as they had been since their encounter in the billiards room last night. She sighed as a flash of warmth coursed through her. Was she to forever feel thusly when she thought of his lips on hers? It was all she could do to sit serenely at breakfast afraid that the nervous energy inside her would somehow spill out for all the world to see. How could it not? And when he was seated across from her, she could not will herself to look away, his chocolate brown depths holding her captive, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

She sat on a stone bench shivering at its coolness even through her layers of clothing. Absent-mindedly kicking at the pebbles from the pathway with the toe of her half-boot, Elizabeth was lost in thought. Thus preoccupied, she failed to hear anyone approach and so was startled when his deep voice addressed her.

"Elizabeth, may I join you?" Darcy asked hopefully.

She smiled at him and his breath caught in his throat. He had thought that the expressions she usually displayed reflected her pleasant disposition and near-constant cheerfulness, but the smile she graced him with now was nothing like her public displays. This smile was only for him and its brilliance sparkled with felicity and affection. He could not help but return one of his own with the same fervour.

The bench was narrow but able to fit two people snugly. When Darcy's thigh pressed against hers, he felt some of the tension drain from his body. All morning, he had wished desperately to be able to touch her somehow. Of course, this was a nearly impossible feat due to the rules of propriety and it made him irritable. This small contact now slightly eased his longing and he was able to enjoy this short reprieve alone with her.

"Did you sleep well, truly?" he asked.

Elizabeth caught his gaze and said, "I found it difficult to fall asleep quickly last night. I tossed and turned for some time."

"Oh? And pray tell, what was the matter?" He kept his smile suppressed, hoping that she might allude to the same infirmity he had suffered from last night, visions of her in his arms, their lips meeting passionately, their bodies pressed together.

She blushed but met his gaze steadily, one brow arched. "I had the most peculiar dream last night. I was playing billiards and everything was so new and thrilling. I was breathless with the excitement."

Darcy swallowed hard. There was no mistaking the double entendre she had spoken or the impertinent twinkle in her eyes. _Why, she is a minx_ , he thought. _Oh, that she never loses that spirit!_

"Hmm . . . thrilling and breathless . . ." Darcy repeated her words, his tone low and intimate. He paused and then looked out over the brown garden before continuing, "I, too, had a most interesting dream." Looking askance at Elizabeth, he saw that she was staring at him intently.

He said in a husky voice, "In my dream, I was alone in the billiards room when a lovely nymph swept in and stole my heart." Her heard her small gasp of pleasure and turned to look at her fully.

Her countenance was erubescent and her lips were slightly parted as she took in a ragged breath. Her unwavering gaze was fixed on his. He was tempted to kiss her soundly on her delectable lips right then and there, but instead he reached for her gloved hand, sliding his palm under hers, his clever fingers finding the soft skin of her wrist between her glove and sleeve. Exhaling slowly in an attempt to gather his wayward thoughts, he perceived her delicate trembling at his intimate touch, his own body responding to her sensitivity.

The spell was broken by the clattering of the carriages and shouts of the coachmen which could be heard from the direction of the front of the house. Darcy sighed and stood, escorting Elizabeth to their conveyances for the ride to the church. They met the rest of the party and boarded the carriages, separated by gender, as ordered by Miss Bingley. Darcy took the opportunity to hand up all the ladies, leaving Elizabeth for last. Their obvious mutual admiration for each other remaining unwitnessed by the preceding occupants of the carriage.

After morning services, the separation of the Netherfield and Longbourn parties took place. And when they parted, Miss Bingley assured Jane of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield and embraced her most tenderly. Turning to Elizabeth, Miss Bingley merely shook hands with her silently. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party with conflicted emotions. She could not help but be glad to be leaving Miss Bingley behind, but felt acute displeasure at the parting between herself and Fitzwilliam.

Before the carriage slowly rolled away from the house, Elizabeth turned to look out the window and was dazzled by a bright reflection from something in Miss Bingley's hair. As the bright light dissipated, Elizabeth was able to see the item and gasped in shock as she recognised the silver hair comb Brigid had warned her about while recounting the legend of the _bean_ _sidhe_.

Upon their arrival at Longbourn, they were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs Bennet wondered at their coming today and thought them very wrong to give so much trouble. But their father, although brief and to the point in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see them. He had acutely felt their absence from the family circle. The evening conversation, when the remaining Bennets were assembled, had lost much of its animation and almost all of its sense, while Jane and Elizabeth were away.

They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough-bass and human nature. (1) In addition, she had some new musical extracts to admire and some new observations of thread-bare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday: several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married. (2)

* * *

Colonel Fitzwilliam trotted his horse down the gravel driveway of Pemberley just as the last rays of the sun were fading. He was tired and sore, but happy to be there. Dismounting, he handed the reins to the groom who had run up from the stables and then he walked towards the front door. Mrs Reynolds herself met him there before he could knock and once he was securely inside, hugged him close. He smiled as he received her warm welcome and then bussed her on the cheek in return.

"Mrs Reynolds, you look lovely."

She swatted him playfully on the arm and grinned. "Fitzwilliam, always the charmer. Georgiana is in the music room. I will have a bath readied for you in your room. Dinner is being made especially for you, all your favourite dishes, and it will be served in about an hour and a half."

"Ah, you know me too well, but you also know that I am good at taking orders so, 'Yes, mum'." He saluted her smartly, then clicked his booted heels together and marched off to find his cousin. Mrs Reynolds shook her head chuckling at his silly antics and made her way back to the kitchen.

The Colonel heard the melodious strains of music before he even arrived at the door of the music room. Georgiana must have been practising day and night as her skill was impressive. She had always been accomplished at the pianoforte but what he heard now was greater in depth and emotion than he had ever heard from her before.

Stopping at the doorway to listen without interrupting, the melancholy tune washed over him. He sighed. Ramsgate had been dreadful and he was sorry that she had to have her heart broken at all, let alone by that scoundrel, Wickham. If he ever saw that man again, the Colonel would plant him a facer and that would be only the start of the physical punishment he wished he could inflict on him. (3)

The concerto came to its crescendo and her cousin felt a shiver run up his spine as he felt the pain Georgiana was pouring into the music. As the last notes reverberated in his ears, Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped into the room clapping.

"Brava! That was amazing, Georgiana."

The slender blonde at the instrument sat quickly upright and turned to face her beloved cousin, a wide smile on her face. "Oh, Fitz!" she clapped her hands together once in delight, "you are truly here."

Running to him, she threw herself into his arms and he caught her, swinging her around once, just as he did when she was younger. She laughed gaily and embraced him tightly once her feet touched the floor again. He was happy to hear her laughter. It had been too long. Ramsgate had dampened her spirit and, as he had feared for awhile, almost killed it completely.

"Have you heard the news?" Georgiana excitedly dragged her cousin across the room by the hand and pulled him down on the settee. He looked at her questioningly.

"About William? I think he has a lady love!" She was practically bouncing up and down as she said the last sentence.

"What gives you that idea?" the Colonel asked laughingly.

"His letter. It was very clear. She was all he could talk about."

"You mean Miss Bennet?" he clarified, his forehead innocently furrowed in mock confusion.

"Of course, who else would I mean?" She glared at him.

"He only mentioned her in passing when he wrote to me," he said affecting a disinterested tone trying to hide his smile at his cousin's frustration; he dearly loved to tease her.

"Truly? Well, I suppose that he would. You tease him mercilessly about most things. I would not be surprised that he did not wish to tell you any more information than necessary," Georgiana frowned at him.

Her cousin laughed heartily at this as her comment was the exact truth of the matter. "I guess we will have our answer when we arrive at Netherfield. Are you packed?"

"Oh my goodness, we have been packed for two days now! Mrs Annesley is very efficient."

"Excellent, we shall leave in the morning then. Now that that is settled, when can we eat?"

Georgiana looked at him disbelievingly and wrinkled up her nose. "Men!" she huffed indignantly. Her cousin sat back against the settee laughing, happy to be with the little girl he loved so much and relieved to see her returning to her former lively disposition.

* * *

Dinner was informal as it was just the three of them and when they finished, Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanied the ladies to the drawing room. Mrs Annesley took up her needlework in the corner allowing the cousins to have some privacy in their conversation.

"Fitz, really, what do you think about William and Miss Bennet? Do you think he is in love?" Georgiana asked, looking wide-eyed and hopeful.

"I do not know, Poppet, but I can tell you that he has never mentioned a young lady in a letter other than you or Miss Bingley." Here he paused for effect and was rewarded when he saw the look of distress on her face.

"Miss Bingley? Why, he only writes about her to entertain me. He has never been partial to Miss Bingley."

"I did not say that he was."

Georgiana slapped him on the arm, in frustration. "Oooooh, you are awful! I was being serious with my questions, Cousin. I think William is lonely and a sister would be so nice," she sighed longingly. "And I am ever so lonely here too." She looked at him with her limpid brown eyes and his heart squeezed tight at the sadness that still lingered there.

"I'm sorry, Poppet." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder. "It would be brilliant if Darcy was in love. I agree with you. He is lonely. A wife would be a fine thing." The Colonel was speaking not only about his cousin but about his own feelings when he proclaimed this.

He was weary and recently army life did not hold the same excitement for him as it had in the past. A wife and a home of his own had started to feature in his daydreams. Unfortunately, the second son of an earl did not have many choices if he wished to live the lifestyle to which he was accustomed; an heiress was his fate. Although, having made numerous financial decisions over the years that had raised his prospects, perhaps an heiress was not strictly needed. He had lived the military life without much difficulty and not having need of much to be truly happy. If he was not as rich as his brother, the viscount, or Darcy, that did not matter. Relative comfort and a wife who loved him were the only requirements high on his list.

"I think it would best if we retired for the night. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." He kissed the top of Georgiana's head and hugged her once more. She looked up at him with a peaceful look on her face and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Yes, you are right, of course. Mrs Annesley, let us retire." The two ladies quit the room, arm in arm.

Colonel Fitzwilliam sat for a moment, thinking of Darcy and whether he was finally in love with a woman. He felt a momentary stab of jealousy but knew that he was being silly. Suddenly, a cheerful thought entered his mind, "Perhaps Miss Bennet has a sister!" Grinning, he pushed himself up off the settee and headed out into the hall, his happy whistle echoing as he took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

 _(1) Thorough-bass: Also called basso continuo (esp. during the Baroque period). A bass part underlying a piece of concerted music. It is played on a keyboard instrument, usually supported by a cello or viola de gamba. Also, figured bass: a bass part in which the notes have numbers under them indicating the chords to be played. The performer was allowed to improvise what chords to play using the cues beneath the music._

 _(2) Much of the scene depicting the Misses Bennet's departure from Netherfield and arrival at Longbourn was directly but slightly modified from_ _Jane Austen,_ _Chapter 12 of_ Pride and Prejudice _(1813)_

 _(3) "Plant a facer" is Regency slang for "punch in the face"_

* * *

 _ **All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved.**_


	10. Chapter 10

**_Dear readers, I am so sorry for the delay! Real life has reared its ugly head in the form of a stroke for my FIL and other minor issues for our family._ _Thanks for hanging in there with me! I plan to return to a more frequent posting schedule as soon as possible._**

 ** _There was too much going on in this chapter when I first wrote it so I decided to split it up. This means it's a bit shorter than I wanted but on the other hand, Chapter 11 is almost finished and soon to be posted. :)_**

* * *

Chapter 10

 _He was staggering through the morass again. Swirling across its surface was a white fog so thick it felt like it would choke him if he were to breathe it in. He struggled with every step, fought assiduously for each one, consciously putting one foot in front of the other, the exertion depleting his strength. A foul stench assaulted him with every laboured step. Feelings of dread and anxiety, almost palpable in their ferocity, roiled through him as he sluggishly crossed the quagmire. There was something important waiting for him on the other side, something precious to him. This thought hammered repeatedly in his head as he tried to capture and focus on the vague impressions flashing through his mind. His inability to manifest any concrete details was exceedingly troublesome._

 _After what felt like hours, he saw solid land at the farthest front perimeter of his vision and suddenly he understood. There stood Georgiana, her golden hair unbound and whipping around her face, her skirts fluttering in the brisk wind, wrapping around her legs. Curiously he observed that he could not feel any wind upon his own person. The feelings of dread and anxiety increased exponentially the closer he came to his sister. Attempting to increase his rate of speed, he struggled against the heavy and mysterious weight that restricted his movement._

 _When he looked up again, he was elated to find that he was almost upon his sister. The strange wind continued to blow around her but did not touch him. He called out to her frantically, but she remained unseeing. Taking steps to mount the bank and ascend to higher ground, he shuddered violently when he walked into a cold spot. He froze in place for a fraction of a second, fear flooding him, and then he scrambled up the bank to his sister's side with a profound feeling of urgency to get her to safety._

 _The wind picked up violently and he finally felt it hit his body, the cold penetrating his clothes and numbing his skin. He reached out for his sister but he could not grasp her nor touch her. Frustrated, he ran at her in an attempt to move her from her frozen position, but he was shocked when he saw that he could not close the gap between them. No matter how hard he tried, Georgiana remained at a fixed and constant distance from him._

 _White puffs of warm air burst out rapidly from his lips as he felt the temperature drop even lower. Standing stock-still, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up and a frisson of utter terror slide down his spine. A crackle of electricity flowed through the atmosphere and he waited for the apparition to appear. He was not disappointed as the old hag materialised in front of him, her blood-red eyes set deep in the black void of the sockets in her bony skull._

 _The banshee hovered eerily and then raised her skeletal hand accusingly in the air, pointing straight at him. Turning her attention towards Georgiana, he felt an intense terror envelop him and he opened his mouth to protest. He watched, horrified, as the banshee floated towards his sister and embraced her in her grisly arms, the bones bare of flesh. Georgiana's eyes rolled back in her head and her body went limp. The banshee began to recede into the shadows dragging Georgiana slowly with her. He could not make himself move, could not hasten after his sister to save her, he cried out in sheer terror, his arms outstretched to stop her abduction._

 _At the last possible moment, just before Georgiana disappeared into the darkness, he saw her body stiffen and her limbs flail, struggling to escape. Hope flared in his heart and then she was gone. He held his breath, his blood rushing loudly in his ears, waiting and hoping for her return. Without warning, he saw a slim, white arm emerge from the shadows and he watched as his sister's fingers curled into the ground in an attempt to find purchase, to escape the hag. He stood rooted in fear, the last vestiges of hope obliterated, as her nails left deep furrows in the dirt whilst her arm was slowly dragged backwards and once again swallowed by the darkness._

 _Swifter than he could have imagined, the fog disappeared and he was standing under a calm night sky, the countless stars twinkling brightly in a background of black velvet. He cried out to the heavens in frustration and pain for the loss of his sister._

Darcy awoke suddenly, his own voice echoing in his ears. He was clammy and breathing heavily, his nightshirt stuck to his body. Sitting up, he rubbed his hand across his face and then leaned against the headboard of the bed. As his heartbeat calmed and slowed to a more normal pace, he wondered at the strange dream he had just had. Recalling the details in perfect clarity, Darcy was apprehensive about what it might foretell and said a quiet prayer for his sister and her safety.

* * *

Colonel Fitzwilliam awoke with a start as the carriage hit a particularly bumpy portion of the road, knocking his head against the side of the wall. As he rubbed his head ruefully, he wished for the hundredth time this morning that he had ridden his horse. Although the Darcy carriage was well-sprung and the squabs well-padded, he would have preferred to ride horseback, even in the chilly weather. He could not forsake Georgiana, however, as he had promised to make most of the trip inside the coach with her.

The rut had also awakened Georgiana and her companion and they both sat up and stretched as best they could in the confined space. His cousin yawned daintily covering her mouth with her gloved hand.

"Fitz, do you have any idea of where we are now?" she asked craning her neck to look out the window.

Retrieving his pocket watch from his waistcoat, the Colonel replied, "We are almost to Market Harborough, I'm sure. We're scheduled to stop in Kettering for the evening."

"And none too soon," stated Georgiana somewhat irritably. "I am weary of being inside this coach."

Her cousin silently echoed her sentiments in his own thoughts and wondered how he could politely extricate himself from the coach's interior and mount his horse to ride the last leg of the trip. He sat staring out the window, his fingers absent-mindedly tapping on the bench seat. He sighed loudly, drawing Georgiana's attention.

The colonel was a gentleman in every sense of the word, having been raised as the son of an Earl, but he preferred to be active rather than indolent and served by others. Well aware that her cousin's military training and lifestyle had taken some of the _ton_ shine and polish off of him, Georgiana knew him as a man of action and that riding in the coach all day was a sacrifice for him. A small one but still a sacrifice. She knew he would rather be outside and in control of his actions by riding his horse instead of restricted to the cramped confines of the coach.

"Fitz, if you want to get out and ride, please do not remain in here for my sake. I know you do not like being constrained in here and that you are dearly wishing to be riding Luna." She smiled kindly at him.

Fitzwilliam sighed in relief. "Thank you, Poppet. You are the best." He blew her a kiss. Rapping on the roof, the coach stopped long enough for the colonel to settle himself on his horse and then they were off again.

The day was cool but full of sunshine and Colonel Fitzwilliam took advantage of the fine weather. Loosening his horse's reins, the pair galloped ahead to have a good run and work off some energy. A quarter of an hour later, the colonel stopped at a particularly pretty copse of trees at the side of the road and found a small stream not too far away. Allowing Luna to rest and drink some water, he sat on the river bank and waited for the carriage to catch up.

Taking out his pocket watch for the fifth time in a half an hour, the colonel stood at the side of the road and wondered where his cousin was. The coach had not passed by yet and he was beginning to worry. Deciding it would be best to head back the way he had come and see what was the matter, he mounted Luna and urged her to hurry.

A feeling of dread curled in the pit of his belly as the colonel saw a coach lying on its side in a ditch. He skidded to a halt and jumped down from his horse while simultaneously assessing the extent of the damage. The coachman had tumbled off the carriage and was sitting in the grass rubbing his shoulder.

"Georgiana!" Fitzwilliam yelled frantically. There was no sound from the interior and Fitzwilliam's heart stalled in his chest. Climbing on the side of the carriage that was pointing toward the sky, the colonel yanked open the door and peered inside at the darkness. "Georgiana? Mrs Annesley?" He saw two figures crumpled at the bottom, their skirts a tangle of fabric, and his breath caught in his throat.

Lowering himself through the carriage door, he landed carefully and found his cousin and her companion sprawled on the bottom of the carriage. Moving to Georgiana first, he felt her pulse and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. He turned his attention to Mrs Annesley and found that she, too, was alive.

"Georgiana . . ." The colonel gently lifted and turned his cousin's head. Feeling something warm and sticky on his hand, he pulled it out from underneath and saw it was covered with blood. The feeling of dread returned full force and he sat back on his haunches looking around the interior for anything he could use to staunch the flow.

His eyes finally landed on the skirt at his feet and he reached down to his cousin's hem to separate the layers of material, ripping a strip of muslin from her petticoat. Gingerly lifting Georgiana's head again, he managed to wrap the muslin strip around her head and over the wound. Tying it off, he heard Mrs Annesley moan and he turned to tend to her. Fortunately, Mrs Annesley was not hurt aside from some bruising and a small bump on the side of her head. Regrettably, she was not able to relay to the colonel what had occurred to Georgiana during the accident but Mrs Annesley was able to tell him that she had struck her head against the wall of the carriage as it overturned and Georgiana had landed on her leaving Mrs Annesley winded from the blow.

Georgiana remained insensible while the colonel assisted Mrs Annesley out the coach door. He boosted her up with his hands under one boot, as if she were mounting a horse, and the coachman pulled from the top. In order to extricate his cousin from the interior of the coach, a sling was fashioned from a length of rope and she was gently pulled up and out of the coach door with the colonel supporting her from the bottom.

Once the ladies were freed from the carriage, the two men, with the timely assistance of a local farmer who was passing by, were able to right the carriage. The farmer's mule and the three available horses were used to turn the coach over. There were some exterior scratches and visible dirt, but overall, the carriage was in good shape.

The coachman explained that a small animal had darted out directly in the path of the horses who had then startled at the sudden and unexpected movement. The reaction of the horses scared the poor animal who then could not decide whether to run the rest of the way across or to return from whence it came and this was the main cause of the accident. The horses had pushed and pulled to the side of the road in order to get away from the creature but in their fright, they were not taking commands and they ran too close to the side of the road. The carriage had not tumbled violently over as the colonel had feared but instead slid down the incline of the ditch landing awkwardly

Unluckily, Georgiana had hit her head on something sharp which rendered her insensible. Her cousin was worried and from his military experience knew that a blow to the head, even a simple one, could result in permanent damage or death. They travelled the few miles to Market Harborough with Georgiana's head resting on Colonel Fitzwilliam's thigh to help absorb the shock of the bouncing carriage.

At the inn, the colonel helped Mrs Annesley to settle Georgiana in her room and after requesting that a physician be sent for, he arranged for their supper trays to be delivered. Receiving a tray in his own room, the colonel quickly ate his fill and made haste to return to check on his cousin. Knocking on the door, he was bade to enter by Mrs Annesley. He saw Georgiana lying in the bed with the bandage still wrapped around her head and the physician at her side.

"How is she?" he asked the physician.

The older man gave him a suspicious look. The colonel quickly introduced himself and asked for a prognosis.

"Colonel, Miss Darcy has sustained a head concussion. I have cleaned the cut and it did not require stitching."

"Has she awakened yet?" the colonel enquired hopefully.

"Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Mrs Annsley replied, "She awoke briefly but cast up her accounts —." She stopped abruptly at the dark look on the colonel's countenance.

"An expected side effect of the concussion, sir," the physician hurriedly stated in an attempt to calm him. "You must attempt to awaken her every couple of hours throughout the night. If she does not awaken, then we must expect a dire outcome. If she is easily awakened, then we will be assured of her recovery."

Frowning slightly, Colonel Fitzwilliam asked when they might expect Georgiana to be recovered and if they could travel.

"If her condition does not worsen, she should be feeling more like herself in the morning, although I would expect her to complain of having a mild headache for the next day or so. You should be able to resume your travels as soon as tomorrow if the young lady is feeling up to it." After a few more follow-up questions and making arrangements for the physician's return early in the morning, the colonel bade him goodbye and then goodnight to Mrs Annesley.

Returning to his room, the colonel sat heavily in the chair at the small table. Sighing deeply, he ran his hand over his face and then propped his chin in his hand. He stared at nothing for a few moments until his eyes focussed on the wine bottle. Pouring himself a glass, he briefly wished it was brandy. After a few fortifying swallows, he sat back and pondered what to write to Darcy.

 _The Three Swans Hotel, Market Harborough, Leicestershire_

 _November 18th_

 _Darcy,_

 _There has been a carriage accident and Georgiana has received a head injury. We have stopped here for the evening instead of in Kettering as previously planned. The local physician has examined her and has declared that she is suffering from a concussion and some bruising. He expects a full recovery although we are to awaken her every couple of hours to assess her faculties and will know better in the morning if all is well. Presently, Georgiana is comfortable and being diligently cared for by Mrs Annesley. As soon as she is recovered and it is determined that she is fit for travel, we will make our way to Hertfordshire. I will send word again in the morning._

 _Col. Fitzwilliam_

* * *

The overland road coach with its yellow-painted body swayed with the uneven road as it traversed the countryside. Within, sat a young man with good manners and a handsome and open countenance. He pulled a letter from his pocket and read it again before the daylight faded, for he could hardly believe his good fortune. Just when he thought his debts would finally catch up with him and land him in debtor's prison or the workhouse, he had received this timely letter.

 _November 15th_

 _Wickham,_

 _It has come to my attention that you are floundering under a mountain of debt you have managed to accrue in an amazingly short period of time. Knowing that you have no other choice, I have taken the liberty of purchasing an officer's commission for you in the —shire militia and have enclosed £100 as a show of good faith. The —shire militia is now encamped in Hertfordshire and I need a reliable man in that county in order to ensure that my plans will prevail._

 _Fitzwilliam Darcy is currently in Hertfordshire visiting an acquaintance. It has come to my attention that he may have formed an attachment to a local young lady with the initial "E". I am charging you with finding this chit and turning her prospects away from Darcy. This connection must not be allowed to develop. Do what you must to end their relationship. Seduction is your speciality, is it not?_

 _If you are successful, and I am sufficiently pleased with the outcome, we can discuss permanent arrangements for a living for you and there will be another £100 made available. I will contact you at regular intervals to assess your progress and success._

 _A Friend_

Wickham did not care who this 'friend' might actually be as their intervention came just in the nick of time. Using some of the enclosed money, he invested in a new suit of clothes and bought passage to Hertfordshire from London. As to his debts, he paid only those that were detrimental to his well-being, hoping that his escape to Hertfordshire would circumvent the rest.

He wondered at the identity of the letter-writer. Whoever they were, they knew quite a bit of his history and also knew of his relationship with Darcy. He scowled as he thought about his adversary. Losing Georgiana's dowry was an unfortunate setback and Darcy was to blame for that defeat. Wickham had always been in Darcy's shadow growing up. He had always lost out to the richer, more handsome, and more gentlemanly Fitzwilliam Darcy, but now he had an opportunity to even the score and bring that gentleman down a notch, or three or four.

Looking forward to meeting Darcy's lady-love, Wickham carefully pocketed the letter and then closed his eyes, imagining what he would do to her, all with her consent of course. He was legendary for his incontrovertible appeal to the fairer sex; he was irresistible. He had no doubt that his charm and good looks would overcome her maidenly sensibilities; they always did. He smiled lewdly at the thought.

* * *

 _ **All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved.**_


	11. Chapter 11

Hope some of you are still with me! This is a transition chapter, necessary but not as exciting as the encounters with the banshee. Stay tuned for Chapter 12.

* * *

 ** _Recap: Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana were on their way to Netherfield Park when a carriage accident occurred. An injured Georgiana is recuperating at an inn, and the Colonel sent an express to Darcy. George Wickham received a letter and orders to go to Hertfordshire via the militia and seduce Elizabeth away from Darcy._**

 ** _Meanwhile, back at Longbourn…_**

* * *

Chapter 11

As the Bennets sat down to breakfast that same morning, they were as unaware of the carriage accident involving Mr Darcy's sister as they were of the trouble that was bearing down on Hertfordshire by the name of George Wickham. Elizabeth slept so well in her own bed that she woke later than usual causing her to postpone her customary morning excursion. She fervently hoped that Mr Darcy was not presently awaiting her arrival, as she found she could not invent an excuse to skip breakfast that would not arouse her father's suspicions.

As she took her place at the table, she smiled softly as she observed the others. Despite the embarrassment she often suffered at the hands of her family, Elizabeth had felt the weight of their absence during her stay at Netherfield. Even if her mother and her younger sisters were the silliest ladies in the county, they were still her family. It was comforting to be home again at Longbourn again amidst her loved ones. The clinking of silver against dishes and plates, mixed with the many different conversations occurring at the table simultaneously, created a familiar and reassuring cacophony from the usual domestic chaos.

Once everyone's plates were full and their mouths were occupied by eating instead of talking, a calm silence temporarily filled the dining room. Halfway through the meal, Mr Bennet placed his fork on his empty plate and wiped his mouth with his serviette in readiness for a family discussion he was sure would be diverting in its ridiculousness.

"I hope my dear," said Mr Bennet to his wife, a slight smile playing about his lips, "that you have ordered a good dinner today because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party."

"Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call, and I hope my dinners are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home." Mrs Bennet sniffed indignantly.

"The person of whom I speak is a gentleman and a stranger."

Mrs Bennet's eyes gleamed. "A gentleman and a stranger . . ." She swiftly fixed her gaze on Jane, her expression calculating and shrewd. "It is Mr Bingley, I am sure. Why Jane, you never dropt a word of this, you sly thing!" A blush spread quickly across Jane's face as she ducked her head, trying to shield herself from her mother's words.

"Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr Bingley. But . . . Good lord! How unlucky! There is not a bit of fish to be got today. Lydia, my love, ring the bell. I must speak to Hill, this moment."

"It is not Mr Bingley," said her husband. "It is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life." This roused a general astonishment amongst his lovely ladies, and he had the pleasure of being eagerly questioned by his wife and five daughters all at once.

After amusing himself for some time with their curiosity, he thus explained, "About a month ago I received this letter and about a fortnight ago I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy and requiring immediate attention."

At this sardonic untruth, said with as much seriousness as Mr Bennet could muster, Elizabeth arched her eyebrow at her father and pulled her lips between her teeth, the vermilion border disappearing, in order to keep from laughing aloud. Mr Bennet winked at her.

"It is from my cousin, Mr Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases."

"Oh, my dear" cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that name mentioned! Pray, do not talk of that odious man. The fact that our beloved home is entailed to him is a vexatious business and wears on my nerves." Her hand fluttered up to her chest as she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of five daughters in favour of a man about whom nobody cared anything.

"It certainly is a most unjust affair," said Mr Bennet, "and nothing can clear Mr Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps feel a little less distressed by his manner of expressing himself."

"No, _that_ I am sure I shall _not,_ and I think it was very impertinent of him to write to you at all and very hypocritical as well. Why could he not keep on quarrelling with you, as his father did before him?"

Elizabeth stifled a giggle at this statement as her mother was in earnest.

"Why, indeed, he does seem to have had some compunction on that topic, as you will hear." Mr Bennet proceeded to recite faithfully from his cousin's letter and after some minutes concluded with:

 _"'If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'nnight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day._ _I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well- wisher and friend,_ _William Collins'"_

"At four o'clock today, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman," said Mr Bennet, as he folded up the letter. "He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I do not doubt he will prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if the great Lady Catherine De Bourgh should be so indulgent as to let him come to us again." Mr Bennet smirked after making this comment and looked at Elizabeth to gauge her reaction to her cousin's imminent arrival. He was not disappointed.

"He must be an oddity, I think," she said laughingly. "I cannot make him out. There is something very pompous in his style. And what can he mean by apologising for being 'next' in the entail? We cannot suppose he would help it if he could. He cannot be a sensible man, can he sir?"

"No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of flummery and self-importance in his letter which promises well. I am impatient to meet him," exclaimed Mr Bennet.

Mrs Bennet, who had sat quietly during their exchange tapping her finger against her cheek in a pensive manner, now stated, "Hmm . . . There is some sense in what he says about the girls, however, and if he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to discourage him."

"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way he can mean to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his credit." Elizabeth smiled tenderly at her sister's statement, as she knew her to be unassuming and unaware of Mr Collins' intentions. Her cousin's words were not so vague to Elizabeth, however, and she sincerely hoped her sweet sister would not be forced to be a sacrifice on the matrimonial altar for the sake of the family. She could already see that her mother was devising some type of plan.

"The composition of his correspondence does not seem defective," offered Mary. "The idea of the olive branch perhaps is not wholly new yet I think it is well expressed." Lydia rolled her eyes at her sister's dull observation.

To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer was in any degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should arrive wearing a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had received pleasure from the society of a man wearing any other colour. As for their mother, Mr Collins's letter had done away much of her ill-will, and she was preparing to meet him with a degree of composure which astonished her husband and daughters.

After breakfast, the girls were busily engaged by their mother to help prepare for their guest. As the morning threatened to turn into afternoon, and her mother assigned more tasks, Elizabeth realised that she would not be able to escape the house. Fretful that she may have missed an opportunity to meet Mr Darcy, she was ill-humoured for most of the day and was cross with Mr Collins for inadvertently thwarting her plans.

Mr Collins was punctual to his time and was received with great politeness by the whole family that same afternoon. The clattering of a carriage could be heard outside and Kitty ran to the window of the drawing room to observe the arrival of their cousin.

"Oh, girls, Mr Collins is come at last," trilled Mrs Bennet as she rushed out of the drawing room and into the hallway to properly meet their guest.

Elizabeth set aside her sewing and gave a meaningful look to her older sister, rolling her eyes. Jane smiled a little in response and then straightened her skirts.

"Oh, he is an ill-favoured man," snorted Kitty from the window.

Lydia ran to her sister's side to see for herself. "Too tall and too scraggy," she declared.(1) "Not even regimentals could redeem him." Lydia giggled loudly prompting Kitty to do the same.

"Come away from the window, you two," Elizabeth whispered harshly. Her sisters dashed across the room just as their mother's voice was heard outside the drawing room door. Elizabeth and Jane stood in order to greet their cousin.

As the door opened, Mrs Bennet said proudly to their guest, "And these are my lovely daughters, Mr Collins."

Suppressing the urge to laugh out loud, Elizabeth looked at Mr Collins in astonishment. He was a tall, lean fellow, to be sure. Lydia's description of "scraggy" did not adequately describe his angular appearance, and his stark, black clothing only served to exaggerate the sickly pallor of his skin. Although she knew him to be only a few years older than herself, Elizabeth thought that he appeared much older. His thinning hair was combed over his balding pate in an attempt to disguise the deficiency, and a fine sheen of perspiration hovered over his upper lip despite the November chill. Elizabeth's gaze met that of her father who was standing behind Mr Collins. One arched brow was all that was needed to convey her thoughts to Mr Bennet, his arm crossing his chest to support his elbow as he covered his smirk with his hand.

"This is my eldest, Jane," Mrs Bennet boasted. Jane curtsied demurely and offered her cousin one of her usual sweet smiles. Mr Collins bowed stiffly, and his gaze lingered on his flaxen-haired cousin as Mrs Bennet moved on to Elizabeth. Finally tearing his gaze away from Jane, Mr Collins noted that he had been left behind as Mrs Bennet swept across the room. He hurried to catch up.

"My second eldest, Lizzy." Elizabeth dropped into a quick curtsy, her eyes cast downward, not due to any shyness on her part, but in order to hide her smirk. She feared that if she looked fully at her cousin she would certainly lose her composure, and she also avoided looking at her father for the same reason.

"This is Mary, Kitty, and my youngest, Lydia." Mrs Bennet finished her introductions proudly, smiling benevolently at her guest. The three youngest sisters curtsied in unison with Mary's effort much more composed than her siblings. Kitty and Lydia were unsuccessfully stifling their giggles, disconcerting Mr Collins so that he flushed red in mortification. He had little experience with the fairer sex and even less with adolescent girls. Their giggles unsettled him and he was not sure as to what or who was amusing them so.

"Mr Collins, please sit here by the fire. Tea will be served shortly." Mrs Bennet escorted her visitor to a wingback chair close to the fireplace.

An awkward silence descended on the room as the occupants struggled to generate topics of discussion with none immediately forthcoming. Lydia and Kitty had situated themselves in the window seat, and their rude whispers to each other were occasionally punctuated by unsuccessfully stifled tittering. Hill arrived providentially with the tea tray and Elizabeth sighed audibly in relief. Mrs Bennet busied herself with serving, starting with their guest.

Inelegantly balancing his plate on his bony knee, Mr Collins accepted a cup of tea from Mrs Bennet. The dainty china wobbled precariously as he sipped his tea, and Mr Collins appeared blissfully unaware that his cake was gradually sliding towards the edge of his plate. Unable to give attention to her own tea due to the risible sight, Elizabeth's cup was forgotten, suspended halfway to her mouth, as she observed her cousin's unabashed clumsiness.(2)

Mr Bennet said little as he observed their visitor with relish. Mr Collin's demeanour was grave and pompous, and his manners were very formal. He thought himself to be stately and dignified; his host thought otherwise. With barely concealed glee, Mr Bennet catalogued each and every peculiar attribute.

Mrs Bennet was ready enough to talk, and Mr Collins seemed neither in need of encouragement nor inclined to be silent himself. He had not been long seated before he complimented Mrs Bennet on having so fine a family of daughters.

"I do not doubt, Mrs Bennet, that with such magnificent beauty, you will soon have the pleasure of seeing all your daughters well disposed of in marriage." He smiled unctuously at Jane. Elizabeth shuddered involuntarily.

This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers, but Mrs Bennet who quarrelled with no compliments, answered most readily, "You are very kind, sir, I am sure, and I wish with all my heart it may prove so, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so oddly."

"You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate."

"Ah! Sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with you, for such things, I know, are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates will go when once they come to be entailed."

"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins and could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present, I will not say more, but perhaps when we are better acquainted —" He was interrupted by Mr Bennet, who attempted to change the topic of discussion, as he had some suspicion of what the man was about to declare. Based on first impressions, Mr Bennet was not inclined to marry any of his daughters off to his absurd cousin.

They were not the only objects of Mr Collins's admiration. The hall, the dining room and all the furniture were examined and praised, and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs Bennet's heart but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his own future property.

During dinner, Mr Bennet scarcely spoke at all, but when the servants were withdrawn he thought it time to have some proper conversation with his guest and, therefore, started a subject in which he expected him to shine by proclaiming that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady Catherine De Bourgh's attention to his wishes, and consideration for his comfort, appeared to be very remarkable. Mr Bennet could not have chosen a better topic for discussion.

Mr Collins was eloquent in his praise of Lady Catherine. The subject elevated him to more than his usual solemnity of manner and with a most important aspect, he protested that he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank, nor such affability and condescension as he had himself experienced from Lady Catherine. She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the neighbourhood, nor to his leaving his parish occasionally for a week or two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion, and had once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage where she had perfectly approved all the alterations he had been making and had even vouchsafed to suggest some herself.

Mr Collins continued, "I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her. Unfortunately, Miss De Bourgh's delicate state of health unhappily prevents her being in town and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine myself one day, has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased with the idea and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies." Here Mr Collins looked pointedly across the table at Jane and Elizabeth, an affected smile upon his countenance. Kitty and Lydia made a poor attempt to stifle their giggles.

Elizabeth listened in disbelief at her cousin's glowing approbation of his patroness. She had no doubt that Lady Catherine was as 'condescending' as she sounded, but 'affable' would not be the word she would use to describe her. In truth, Lady Catherine De Bourgh sounded very much like a veritable dragon. Elizabeth looked askance at her father, one brow arched in response to her cousin's obsequious manner.

"You judge very properly," said Mr Bennet, "and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?"

"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible."

Elizabeth, who was sipping from her wine glass when her cousin made this statement, inhaled abruptly as she tried not to laugh and found herself coughing somewhat violently. She quickly attempted to calm herself. Mr Bennet turned to observe her, a small smile hovering on his lips.

Mr Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd as he had hoped and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance, and except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in his pleasure. By supper's end, however, the dose had been enough and Mr Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing room again. He invited him to read aloud to the ladies supposing that this activity would minimise his farcical prattle.

Mr Collins readily assented and a book was produced, but on beholding it (for every thing announced it to be from a circulating library), he held it up between two fingers as if it might taint him in some way, and begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Other books were produced and after some deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Kitty stared at him and Lydia rolled her eyes, groaning in dismay. Mary, however, seated herself closer to her cousin and attended him with remarkable interest.(3)

* * *

As the girls prepared for bed later that night, Jane broached the subject of Mr Collins. Elizabeth almost groaned aloud as she had had about all she could take of that gentleman for the day.

Sitting at the vanity in her room, Jane was plaiting her thick hair. "Lizzy, what was your opinion of our cousin? I thought his manners very fine."

Elizabeth looked at her sister in mild disbelief before answering, "Yes, Jane, one might say that he was well-mannered, if not a little stiff-necked. But did you not see his palavering for what it was?"

Pausing mid-plait, she stared at her sister in the mirror. "Truly, Lizzy? I did not think him so bad."

Elizabeth arose from the bed to stand directly behind Jane, her hands on her shoulders. "You are so sweet, dear sister, that you cannot think ill of anyone. A trait I generally admire and often wish for myself. However," she lowered her chin to rest on Jane's shoulder, pressing her cheek to her sister's, as their eyes met in the mirror, "you must admit that our cousin is ridiculous."

She shrugged. "He is perhaps not the most handsome man, I admit, and he did chitter-chatter about Lady Catherine to excess."

Elizabeth stood and smiled knowingly at her sister, "Ah, so you _did_ notice."

Jane was saved from having to give an answer by a muffled thump outside their door. Crossing the room, Elizabeth opened the door expecting to see one or two of her sisters scrambling away from their eavesdropping position. Surprised to see that the hallway was empty, she stuck her head out further and looked to both her left and her right. All was quiet and she was unable to discern anything in the dark that was not in the immediate spill of candlelight from the doorway.

As she closed the door, Jane asked her what she had discovered.

"Nothing, nothing at all."

In the hallway, around the corner from the room where Jane and Elizabeth were, a tall, shadowy figure pushed away from the wall and skulked down the corridor.

* * *

Hearing a commotion from the front hall, Darcy left the Netherfield library to inquire what was the disturbance. It was very late in the evening, and his hosts had already retired almost an hour before. Heading towards the sound of Bingley's voice echoing in the entryway, Darcy saw his friend talking to an express rider. A sharp pang of fear swirled in his gut as he recalled his portentous night terror about his sister. His heart began racing, and he hoped against all hope that the letter was not meant for him. Darcy watched as Bingley, unnaturally slow in his movements, turned to face him, and the roaring in his ears drowned out any words his friend was saying, his arm outstretched, offering Darcy the letter.

He reluctantly accepted it and looked down at his hands as if it was a serpent set to strike him. Slowly opening the letter, he determinedly read the few scrawled lines. Bingley watched his friend with mild curiosity which quickly turned to alarm as he saw Darcy's body stiffen and the blood drain from his friend's face in response to the news in the express.

At that moment, Darcy's grip slackened, the letter slipping from his hand. He watched it float slowly down and he felt his heartbeat in his throat. The roaring in his head intensified and words, snippets of the letter, echoed in his head: _accident . . . injured . . . insensible._ He was wrenched back to reality by the forceful shaking of his shoulders.

"I say, Darce, what in the world has happened?" Bingley bent to retrieve the letter. Swiftly reading the contents, he gasped audibly as he now clearly understood Darcy's reaction. "Georgiana's been injured!" His head snapped up, and he looked at Darcy. The concern etched on his face promptly shifting to surprise as he observed his friend pivot sharply and stride away from him.

Running up the stairs two at a time and down the hallway to his chamber, Darcy did not notice that Bingley was trailing close behind him. Throwing open his door, he strode in and began to yank open drawers, tossing necessary items on the bed. Bingley watched in amazement as his normally calm and collected friend ran around his chamber in a frenzy.

"Darcy, it is the middle of the night! You cannot go out there now. It is dark and too dangerous. Besides, your cousin stated that she is being cared for, and I know she is in capable hands. Your immediate departure can only cause harm to you and then you will be no good to your sister." Bingley approached his friend and laid his hand on his arm halting his mad dash.

Hanging his head dejectedly, Darcy closed his eyes. "Yes, I suppose you are correct, Charles." He sighed loudly and turned to face his friend. "I cannot dash off in the middle of the night. But, neither can I sit here calmly nor sleep comfortably while my dear sister is most gravely injured." Moving towards the bed, he sat on the edge, the anguish evident on his countenance and in his posture.

"I will leave at first light, Charles." Bingley nodded his agreement and seeing that Darcy was preoccupied with his thoughts, quietly left the chamber to return to his own.

A dejected Darcy recalled the dream he had the night before, seeing it clearly in his mind's eye. The hag had grabbed his stunned sister, dragging her into the darkness, and he was unable to aid her in any way. He shuddered and put his head in his hands, the despair like a heavy weight on his heart. Protecting Georgiana had been his foremost concern all of his life, a duty that superseded all others since the day she was born. He had failed her at Ramsgate, and he had failed her this time as well.

His troubled thoughts turned towards the one person who might lift his spirits and soothe his heartache, Lizzy. He sifted through the memories of her that he had especially tucked away. One corner of his mouth turned up in a tremulous smile as a visage of her laughing countenance and sparkling eyes filled his mind. His anguish began to ease somewhat until he recalled that he could not meet her after sunrise on her morning sojourn. Darcy rubbed his chest over his heart, unaware of the motion.

He had not ventured to ride out to her favourite walking path this morning, as he had assumed that she would be expected to spend her first morning home with her family. His brief respite at his memory of her joyous countenance ended abruptly as he realised that he was going to disappoint Elizabeth and himself. He longed to see her.

Rising from his perch on the side of the bed, he walked to his writing desk where he extracted paper and pen. He contemplated for a moment on how to address his message and once decided, began to write in his distinctive script:

 _Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,_

 _I have received some news of a most alarming nature and I must leave the county for some time. If all goes well, I will return in a few days. Please know that I would not leave without saying farewell in person if this issue was not of such great import and severity. A separation such as this pains me greatly now that I have found you. I am writing this missive in the hope that it might provide you some assurance of my regard for you while I am away. You will be in my thoughts every moment that I am absent from Hertfordshire and I will make haste to return as soon as is humanly possible._

 _Yours most devotedly,_

 _F._

Darcy did not rest easy overnight as he had predicted. Sleep eventually claimed him, but his dreams, baleful and haunting, were composed of visions of an injured and bloody Georgiana floating through his slumbering mind.

True to his word, he was packed and ready only hours later. As he was departing, he paused at the door of Bingley's study and entered to leave his letter to his friend on his desk. With the hope that Charles would not balk at giving a letter from him to Elizabeth, Darcy had enclosed it within the brief note he wrote to his friend. Addressed to Charles and affixed with the Darcy seal, his friend would be the only one to see his impropriety, a letter written to an unmarried woman who was not his relative.

Outside in the cold air of the morning twilight, Darcy expertly saddled Paladin without assistance. Once securely mounted, the troubled rider and his spirited stallion galloped away from Netherfield without a word of farewell to anyone.

* * *

(1) _Scraggy: gaunt and wasted, lean, thin, bony_

(2) _Risible: capable of exciting laughter, comical_

(3) _Much of the scene depicting the discussion and arrival of Mr Collins at Longbourn was directly but slightly modified from_ _Jane Austen,_ _Chapters 13 and 14 of_ Pride and Prejudice _(1813)_

* * *

 _ **All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Recap: Georgiana was injured in a carriage accident. Darcy is on his way to her. Mr Collins has arrived at Longbourn.**_

* * *

Chapter 12

Dragging his hand over his face with a heavy sigh, Colonel Fitzwilliam sat at the table in a private dining room in the Three Swans Hotel. "The devil take it! Darcy will never forgive me if Georgiana does not recover."

"Well then, I am happy to report that I am feeling quite the thing this morning, Cousin."

The colonel startled at the sound of Georgiana's cheerful voice and quickly turned towards the door. There stood his young cousin wearing a pretty gown and looking well-rested. He jumped to his feet to greet her.

"Poppet, I am delighted to see you looking so hale and hearty." He reached for both her hands, inspecting her from head to toe. Suddenly she was enveloped in a gentle but loving embrace and received a kiss on the top of her head.

"Fitz, you will smother me before I can sit down and eat," she said teasingly, lightly pushing her cousin away. "I am famished."

"Seeing as how you 'skipped' supper last night, I can just imagine. Sit, sit." Looking beyond Georgiana's shoulder, the Colonel finally noticed her companion and gestured towards the table. "And you as well, Mrs Annesley."

"What are you doing up so early, Georgiana?" Colonel Fitzwilliam looked towards the small window in the room and noted that the sun was a just hovering over the horizon.

Mrs Annesley looked sidelong at her charge and then faced the Colonel. "I strongly suggested that she stay abed and take her breakfast there, sir."

"Certainly it would be better if you were still abed and resting, would it not Georgiana?" Her cousin's tone was firm even though his statement was conveyed as a query.

Avoiding the accusing glances she was sure were aimed at her, she deliberately concentrated on her biscuit, hoping they would not notice the frustration that was surely displayed on her face. "I wanted to get an early start. I was the cause of our delay yesterday and I am determined to make up for it today." She put her knife down and looked up at her cousin as she took a dainty bite of the fluffy biscuit.

"You do not suffer a headache or feel faint?"

"No, I do not," she stated resolutely. Taking a drink to wash her previously fluffy, but now dry, bite of biscuit down, she continued in a tone that would brook no argument, she hoped. "I am well and wish to proceed forthwith."

The Colonel shared a questioning look with Mrs Annesley, who raised her eyebrows as she shrugged her shoulders slightly in response. While Georgiana was insistent that she was fully recovered from the ordeal of the day before, the Colonel was not as easily persuaded. After consulting privately with Mrs Annesley, he felt that Georgiana was as she ever was and that it would be better to arrive at Netherfield as soon as possible so that his cousin might get proper rest and nourishment. It was finally decided that the trio would set out for Hertfordshire without delay.

Mentally debating whether he should send Darcy an express updating him on their travel plans or not, the Colonel ultimately decided against it. He felt that they would only be a day behind the express rider at any rate. There was no need for the expense or the urgency. Besides, he concluded, he had already informed his cousin that they would resume their journey if Georgiana were sufficiently recovered.

Handing the women up into the Darcy carriage and allowing them time to settle themselves and their skirts, Colonel Fitzwilliam soon entered behind them. He thought to himself that no matter how great his inclination was to ride out on Luna as swiftly as she would carry him, he would stay by Georgiana's side in the carriage for the remainder of the day. Besides, they would be in Bedford before nightfall. He could manage his confinement in the carriage without difficulty. Turning his head to look out the window, the Colonel absentmindedly began to drum his fingers on the seat.

* * *

Crunching leaves under her boots and dragging a stick behind her, Elizabeth trudged through the final leg of her return trip to Longbourn. Somehow, her morning sojourn did not feel as invigorating as it usually did. On the whole, she was quite dissatisfied. She flung her arm out and swung the stick she was carrying against a nearby trunk with a solid _thwack_.

 _Why was he not there to meet me this morning? Was he disappointed that I did not walk out yesterday?_

She passed another tree and the stick found its target again. _Thwack, thwack._

 _Ooh, that Mr Collins! This is all his fault._ His unforeseen arrival at Longbourn and her mother's subsequent requirement that he be fully entertained by his cousins had kept her from her much-anticipated reunion with Mr Darcy the day before. _How am I to see him again? How irksome to have to sit back and wait for him to call on me._

 _Thwack, thwack, thwack, crack!_

She frowned as she studied the long piece of cracked wood dangling from the short end in her hand. Having derived some satisfaction from assaulting the tree trunk with her little stick, she was sorry that the diversion was ended. One of the most enjoyable things about her rambles was that she was not required to act properly. If she wished to beat a tree trunk with a stick, that was her choice. If she wanted to run amok, that too was her choice. Today, she wished to see Mr Darcy again, and even though that was also her choice, it was not to be.

Elizabeth sighed heavily, feeling the depths of the incommodious expectations and requirements of society. As she looked at her beloved Longbourn, she felt the influence of the world return full force and it felt even more tedious due to her disappointment this morning.

 _If I cannot have Mr Darcy, then the diversion of a silly cousin will have to do. Mr Collins, here I come!_

Straightening her spine and throwing her shoulders back, Elizabeth proceeded doggedly towards the house. She was feeling particularly ill-tempered this morning and believed that her cousin would certainly provide some much-needed amusement for her and Mr Bennet today. The ridiculousness that was Mr Collins was astounding, and she did not wish to be excluded.

Crossing the threshold of the front door, Elizabeth could hear the murmuring of voices in earnest discussion. As she removed her outer cloak, she determined that the speakers were her mother and her cousin. She moved closer to the dining room door but stopped short upon hearing that the discussion concerned her and her sisters. She pressed her back against the wall and sidled up against the door frame moulding, in order to listen more closely.

"Mrs Bennet, now that I have a good house and a very sufficient income, I intend to marry. I came to Longbourn with the intention of seeking reconciliation and I would like to choose one of your fine daughters to take as my wife. In this way, I may provide some security for your family when Mr Bennet passes and the estate rightfully belongs to me."

At this bold statement, Elizabeth felt her stomach twist into knots of anxiety and disgust. Her cousin was not only absurd but also decidedly unappealing and almost repellent in nature. This was exactly what she had feared would occur when her father first read her cousin's tedious letter aloud at the breakfast table a few days ago, and she had observed her mother's preoccupied expression. Knowing her mother's fears of a future without Mr Bennet, Elizabeth fretfully anticipated her response.

"Mr Collins, I am honoured that you think so highly of my daughters and that you wish to do your duty by us. Have you formed an opinion as to which of my daughters you admire the most?"

An involuntary shudder went down Elizabeth's spine. She held her breath as she awaited her cousin's reply.

"They are all very lovely, but I must honestly tell you that I am inexorably drawn to Cousin Elizabeth. Her lively nature and her intelligence will undoubtedly be an asset to me as a parson, and I am confident that Lady Catherine will approve of the match."

Eyes widening in disbelief, Elizabeth's posture stiffened as she jerked away from the wall.

"Oh, my Lizzy is hale and hardy as well, Mr Collins. She will provide you with many fine sons, no doubt."

Elizabeth's hand fisted and flew to her mouth at her mother's bold and unseemly declaration. The thought of Mr Collins' hands, lips, or any other part of that odious man intimately touching her body, caused her to feel nauseated. So great was her distress, she could not bear to hear the remainder of the conversation. Slipping quietly past the partially-closed door, she dashed up the stairs to her room.

As Elizabeth entered the room in a flurry, she barely missed colliding with Jane, whose hand rested on the doorknob on the opposite side in anticipation of leaving the room. Observing her sister's agitated manner, Jane became immediately concerned.

"Lizzy, you look positively ill! What is the matter?"

Pushing past her sister, Elizabeth stumbled towards the bed where she sat down forcefully, her face pallid.

"Lizzy?" Jane took a few steps toward the bed. "Lizzy?" she said with more force.

Sitting gingerly, Jane reached for her hand. It was ice cold. She looked worriedly at her sister's face, noting her detached demeanour. She had never seen Elizabeth like this before. She sat in silence, lending her the comfort that only a beloved sister could provide.

After a few minutes, Jane heard her sister rasp out, "Mama means to marry me to Mr Collins."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and willed her breathing to slow to a more normal rate, her racing heart soon following suit. When she could somewhat calmly think about it, she realised that she was not really shocked at this development. She had always known she was _not_ her mother's favourite daughter, not even close. Jane and Lydia were held in higher esteem by their mother, and being the favourite daughter of her father had somewhat diminished the sting that she felt as a result of her mother's perceived lack of affection. What she had overheard downstairs was further confirmation of her mother's indifference and it hurt her, more than she ever supposed it would.

What kind of parent would purposely give their consent for their child to be married to a ridiculous man like Mr Collins? Thank goodness her father would never allow his favourite daughter to be so unhappy or so unequally yoked. The more she considered it, the more infuriated she became.

 _What of my wishes? My hopes and dreams?_ An image of Mr Darcy in the billiard room at Netherfield, his body pressed against hers, his lips soft and warm, lodged itself in her mind. A rush of warmth instantly coursed through her.

Jane's voice brought her back to the present time. "Lizzy, what do you mean?"

Sighing heavily, her sister replied, "I overheard Mama discussing my suitability as a wife with Mr Collins."

"Oh my darling, she could not have meant it. Surely you must have misconstrued the conversation. After all, you were eavesdropping. Perhaps you did not hear all of the particulars."

Elizabeth scoffed. _Sweet, naïve Jane._ "There was no misunderstanding. She was exceedingly clear," her voice tight with displeasure. She repositioned herself so she could look fully at her sister.

Gathering both of Jane's hands in hers, she stated resolutely, "Do not fret. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me. I am already forming a plan to persuade Mr Collins against me. If he thinks for one moment that I will be a sweet and biddable wife, he had better think again!" Elizabeth's smile was one of self-satisfaction.

Drawing her eyebrows together in concern, Jane declared, "Oh no, Lizzy! The last time you executed an incursion, that boy was reduced to a quivering mass. Eight years later and he still avoids you like the plague."

"Yes, but that was my sole purpose, do you not see? Mr Collins will want nothing to do with me by the time I am through with him."

* * *

In the early afternoon, Lydia announced her intention of walking to Meryton and every sister except Mary agreed to go with her. Mr Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him and have his library to himself. For thither Mr Collins had followed him after breakfast, and there he would continue. He was nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr Bennet with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford.

Such doings discomposed Mr Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the house, he was used to be free from them there. His good manners, therefore, were swift in encouraging Mr Collins to join his daughters in their walk. And Mr Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close his large book and go.

The added inducement of being close to Elizabeth was enough to almost send him dashing to attend her immediately. As the group made their way to the village, Elizabeth made every effort to stay a few steps ahead of Mr Collins, in every sense, refusing to acknowledge his admiring glances and attempts at conversation. She had kept close to Jane, speaking with her to the exclusion of Mr Collins. This slight did not bother him for it afforded him the opportunity to study her lithe figure from behind.

Being a great walker, she was strong and swift. The pace at which Elizabeth was moving, in addition to the light wind that day, caused the blue satin ribbon bedecking her gown to flutter and trail behind her. Jane, sensing a presence too close to them, turned to spy Mr Collins with the ribbon in his hand, his fingers rubbing the smooth surface as he kept apace of the eldest Misses Bennet.

Jane's eyes widened at his impertinence. Turning towards her sister, she linked them arm-in-arm and stated cheerily, "Lizzy, let us skip like we used to as little girls, shall we?"

Confused but obliging, Elizabeth matched her stride to her sister's and the ladies pulled ahead of Mr Collins, the blue ribbon sliding briskly from his fingers.

"Really Jane, what has gotten into you?" Elizabeth asked in a low undertone.

Jane's clear, blue eyes met her sister's with noticeable distaste and she replied quietly, "Our cousin was taking liberties with your attire. He had your ribbon ends in his hand, _fondling_ them. It was most unseemly."

Her sister wrinkled her nose and squeezed Jane's arm entwined with her own.

As the group entered Meryton, the eyes of the youngest sisters were immediately wandering up the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them. Lydia and Kitty exuberantly entered a shop, leaving Jane and Elizabeth outside with Mr Collins.

"Cousin Elizabeth," he addressed her from behind, too close for her comfort. She feigned interest in the window display and moved away from him to view it better.

He cleared his throat and made another attempt as he followed behind her. "Cousin Elizabeth, might I have the honour of requesting a private audi –"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in frustration. Turning to face him, she forcefully interrupted him mid-sentence. "Mr Collins, I believe that you had mentioned that your patroness, Lady De Bourgh, had some particular advice on how to conduct your sermons." She smiled tightly. "Might I enquire as to how that has influenced how you address your congregation?"

Mr Collins's look of disappointment swiftly turned into one of eagerness as he began to expound rhapsodically. Elizabeth sighed in relief at having so easily redirected her cousin's train of thought but then grimaced inwardly at how her request might be perceived as encouragement of his attentions to her. _I must make haste in forming a plan to convince him that I am unsuitable. His behaviour is insufferable and according to Jane, improper as well. Think, Lizzy, think!_

At that exact moment, Lydia barrelled out the shop door and loudly shouted, "Denny! Denny!" while waving a handkerchief with one hand in the air. Kitty, having followed quickly behind, was now standing next to her sister, bouncing on her toes and giggling as she tugged excitedly on Lydia's other arm.

The abrupt change in circumstances had befuddled Elizabeth for just a moment and before she could censor her wayward sister's unladylike behaviour, Jane called out "Lydia!" in a most embarrassed half-whisper. Elizabeth was just about to echo her sister's admonition when her attention was soon caught by a stranger, a young man of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr Denny Lydia had mentioned in the course of her visit to Netherfield during Jane's convalescence.

The Bennet sisters were struck with the stranger's air; all wondered who he could be. And Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street. They had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town. Mr Denny merrily related the story of how his friend had been happy to inform him that he had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty - a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address.

Lydia made the introductions to her sisters and upon uttering Elizabeth's name, Wickham came to attention. Although these ladies were the very first he had happened upon during his short time in Hertfordshire, he found it oddly coincidental that one of them had a name that began with the letter 'E'. Although generally indolent and prone to disaffectedness, Wickham was not a simpleton. (1) He was fully aware of his excellent fortune in acquiring his unknown benefactor. Until he was certain of the situation and his place in it, it was best if he did as he was bid.

The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation, a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming, and the whole party were standing and talking together very agreeably.

Mr Collins had been all but forgotten by his cousins in the excitement and forcibly pushed his way between the eldest Misses Bennet. Stepping directly in front of Elizabeth, to introduce himself to the two men, he interrupted Mr Wickham mid-sentence. Both Denny and Wickham stared unbelievingly at Mr Collins's indecorous blundering; the former with a look of irritation upon his countenance and the latter with a bemused smirk. Elizabeth, mortified at the impropriety of her cousin's manner, had just taken a breath to apologize for his behaviour when the sound of a horse approaching drew their notice.

To Elizabeth and Jane's delight, Mr Bingley was seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, that gentleman came promptly towards them and began the usual civilities. Bingley addressed Miss Bennet directly, explaining that he was just now on his way to Longbourn to inquire after her. A becoming blush spread from Jane's neckline to her sweet face as she lowered her gaze, a shy smile shaping her lips. Giving her time to recover, Elizabeth stepped around Mr Collins and said with an impish smile, "As you can see, we are not at home, sir. We are on our way to visit my aunt."

"I am sufficiently recovered, Mr Bingley, thanks to your generosity and hospitality," Jane managed in a soft voice, her eyes finally meeting those of the young man she was addressing. He smiled widely, flushing with pleasure, and the couple gazed at each other, oblivious to the assemblage surrounding them.

Lydia's loud giggles diffused the awkward silence and she turned to address Kitty, her eyes shining with unrestrained glee. "La! Imagine the look on my aunt's face when we arrive at her door on the arms of two handsome soldiers."

After a few minutes of pleasant conversation, Mr Denny and Mr Wickham amiably submitted to escorting the young ladies to the door of Mr Philips's house. Elizabeth lagged behind a moment in order to wait for Jane who fare welled a disappointed Mr Bingley. She soon joined Elizabeth with a blissful smile and a faraway look.

"Will you see him tonight, Jane?" Elizabeth waited impatiently, a smile smirk upon her lips.

"Yoo-hoo, Jane!" She waved her hand in front of her sister's face.

Slowly turning her head, Jane finally took note of her sister's presence. "Oh, er, yes." Jane's face coloured brightly. "He has already been invited to the card party and has accepted."

Elizabeth smirked at her sister's obvious infatuation.

Arriving much too quickly at their destination for Lydia's taste, the officers made their bows and politely declined her pressing entreaties that they would come in. Mrs Philips's threw up the parlour window upon hearing the discussion and loudly affirmed the invitation. The two men graciously expressed their regrets at not being able to accept, citing unavoidable militia duties.

Mrs Philips was always glad to see her nieces, and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome. She was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home in her usual loquacious manner, and when her aunt finally took a breath, Jane introduced Mr Collins to her. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion without any previous acquaintance with her. He could not help flattering himself, however, that his imposition might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice.

Quite awed by such an excess of good breeding, Mrs Philips's contemplation of one stranger was soon put an end to by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew: that Mr Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in the -shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr Wickham appeared at that very moment, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation.

Unluckily for them, no one passed the windows except for a few of the officers, who in comparison with the stranger, were now described as "stupid, disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs Philips avowed that they would have a nice, comfortable, noisy game of lottery tickets and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering and they parted in mutual good spirits.

Mr Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless. He expounded so long and bowed so many times that when he finally turned around at the door to take his leave, he noted that his fair cousins were far ahead of him. Dismayed, Mr Collins watched as they walked out of sight and hurried off to catch them.

As they walked home, all four of the Misses Bennet were discussing the recent arrival of Mr Wickham. The conversation between Lydia and Kitty was punctuated with near incessant giggling. The older sisters were more subdued and sensible in their discussion. While Elizabeth admitted to Jane that Mr Wickham was a handsome and amiable young man, she could not help but silently compare him to Mr Darcy.

Almost as tall but more fair in appearance, Mr Wickham was certainly most pleasant to look upon. He had exhibited the fine manners of a gentleman and excelled at polite conversation with a witty demeanour; all characteristics that any lady could easily admire. A memory of warm, chocolate brown eyes and a dimpled smile soon obscured any thoughts of their newest acquaintance, and Elizabeth spent the majority of the return trip to Longbourn musing over her time at Netherfield and a certain gentleman from Derbyshire.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky when the Darcy coach pulled into the inn yard of the White Hart. After a few moments' discussion to coordinate their activities, the coach's occupants descended to seek victuals and rooms for the night. Too tired to sit in a private dining room to take their meal, the gentleman and ladies retired immediately to their rooms where trays were delivered upon their request. Only one more day of travel remained before they would arrive at Netherfield.

* * *

Darcy shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, his posterior region feeling the effects of ten hours of unremitting, hard riding. Paladin's blowing was pronounced and his sides heaved at the effort. A fine layer of frothy sweat created a sheen on his coat along his neck and withers. No longer able to ignore his horse's need for rest, Darcy would have to change out mounts at the next posting house a few miles away. He would miss his faithful steed, but could not risk Paladin's health any longer.

As twilight approached to settle over the town of Bedford, Darcy careened sharply into the yard at the White Hart. Jumping to the ground, he made arrangements for his stallion and its replacement. He entered the inn, taking time only to meet his basic needs, and when he was finished he strode quickly out the door and into the inn yard, whistling for the stable boy. Swiftly mounting his hired horse, he dug the heels of his boots into the horse's sides and sprinted off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. In such a rush and preoccupied as he was, he failed to discern a coach with the Darcy crest emblazoned on its doors stationed nearby.

* * *

(1) _Disaffected: "estranged, hostile," usually in reference to authority._

(2) _Parts of the scenes depicting Mr Collins at Longbourn and the walk to Meryton were directly, but slightly modified, from_ _Jane Austen,_ _Chapter 15 of Pride and Prejudice_ _(1813)_ _._

* * *

 _ **All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved.**_


	13. Chapter 13

_My kind and wise beta reader told me several months ago that for some reason, Chapter 13 is often a brick wall for authors. I laughed with her over it and brazenly told her that that would not happen to me. Haha. Now here we are with more time passed than I planned for. The chapter did not want to be written, would not be written, until I had made some discoveries and found a solid direction. Writing plots is hard! Lol This chapter is shorter than I generally like but there are a lot of different perspectives occurring. I wanted to match them up into their respective time frames, but that made for a really long chapter if I wrote about all the events occurring on the same day. I hope you are still with me on this fun ride._

* * *

 ** _Recap: Georgiana was injured in a carriage accident but is recovered and en route to Netherfield with her cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Darcy rode out to assist them but missed recognizing his own equipage at one of the inns on the road to Derbyshire earlier in the day. He has stopped for the night, and must decide in which direction to go in the morning. Mr Collins has arrived at Longbourn, and Wickham is in town._**

* * *

Chapter 13

Dozing peacefully, the sleek black cat did not hear the conjuror's approach, nor did it bear witness to the shadowy figure descending the stairwell in the flickering torch light. Consequently, it did not have any warning as to the rude awakening it was about to receive. The solid surface it was sleeping on suddenly shifted, and was pulled violently out from beneath it, causing the frightened feline to jump up into a ball of hissing fury and land with claws protracted and back arched high. An annoyed guttural growling that sounded suspiciously like a whine, emanated from the feline as it settled begrudgingly into one of its other favourite spots along the high shelf. Lowering its head onto its paws, the cat watched the conjuror warily through one narrowed eye from the shadows.

"Insolent cat! Sleeping on the grimoire," the conjuror muttered irritably, cradling a large antique tome. (1)

Placing the book on the wooden table situated in front of the rear wall of the chamber, the conjuror paused to lovingly stroke the tattered edges of the grimoire. A pale hand then rested on the cover to feel the latent power of the hardcover book vibrating just beneath the surface. Thumbing past spells for love, revenge, and wealth, the conjuror's fingers stopped at a well-worn page adorned with a goat's head bedecked with long, sharp horns. The fingers then brushed across the page in a caress before a forefinger tapped meaningfully at a specific paragraph.

The black-cloaked figure turned around to inspect the wall which was occupied by a myriad of different sized jars filled with indescribable items distorted by the thick glass surrounding them. Deft hands pulled this jar and that, setting them in a row on the table above the book. Reaching for the mortar and pestle, the conjuror began to chant forbidden words in French in a low-pitched refrain as the items from the jars were carefully removed and added, one at a time, into the rough stone chalice.

Glancing up and over the table, dark, beady eyes checked to see if the chalked pentacle in the middle of the floor was still intact. Satisfied that it was indeed, the mortar and pestle were momentarily abandoned on the table top, and a drawer was opened to reveal a glint of highly polished metal in the torchlight. The pale hand drew out a long, thin, bejewelled knife; the steel honed to a rapier-sharp edge. Reverently laying the knife on the table, the conjuror rolled up one sleeve of the black cloak.

As the chanting resumed, the conjuror took up the knife again, and the bare, pale extremity was held over the chalice. With a swift and practised slicing motion, the ceremonial knife instantly sundered the thin skin at the wrist. Dark red blood flowed from the wound in several meandering rivulets which culminated in a single stream that dripped steadily into the chalice, prompting the conjuror's chanting to become louder and more fervent. The black cat in the shadows slowly lifted its head, watching guardedly as the hair on the back of its neck rose in response to the charged power swirling around the chamber.

The pentacle at the core of the chamber began to glow, pulsating in rhythm with the human heartbeat pumping the conjuror's lifeblood into the chalice. The air was heavy, and a shimmering stratum appeared in the centre of the encircled five-pointed star. The conjuror's eyes shone bright with excitement, the same as they always did when this event occurred, while the shadowy figure emerged as a solid entity within the pentacle.

* * *

Lucy adjusted her cap while attempting to tuck in the loose wisps of her hair as she loitered in the back hallway of the kitchen. She had to make haste or Mrs Mercer would catch her idle again. A knowing smile spread across her countenance as Lucy thought back to her clandestine activities just a few short moments ago. Being in Willie's embrace was just about the most pleasant and exciting thing to happen to her in her youthful experience. A scullery maid's life was not easy, but she was lucky to be hired to work at this grand manor. Her friends were envious of her recent employment and she could not wait until she told them all about her new beau.

Hurrying down the dim hallway, Lucy spotted a curious strip of light beneath one of the pantry shelves. Thinking how odd this was, she stepped closer to the shelving for a better look. Running her hand along the outer edge, she felt a gap between the shelving and the stone wall. A cool draught flowed out of the crack and caused a shiver to run down her spine. Her curiosity thoroughly roused, Lucy pulled with both hands on the exposed edge, gasping as the shelving swung away with a dull grating sound. The secret passageway revealed rough-cut stairs and lit torches lining the walls.

The maid hastily looked behind her to see if anyone was approaching, and seeing herself alone, slipped through the crack in the wall to descend into the cellar. Perhaps there was a comfortable chamber below that might afford her and Willie some privacy in the future. She stifled a small giggle. _How convenient that would be_ , she thought giddily. It was always a challenge to find time alone with her lover, away from the meddling eyes of the housekeeper and the butler. _Although_ _it does make our trysts more exciting, no doubt._

Lucy crept silently and slowly down the twisting stairwell, grateful for once for her serviceable shoes. Her hand trailed along the rough stone wall for balance. Perceiving a distant murmur of voices, Lucy thought that she might have come upon another lover's tryst and hoped that she might glean some information that could be useful above stairs. Gossip was the currency of servants, after all. If it was not necessarily something scandalous in relation to the master or mistress, then perhaps it was gossip about others who were in service in the manor as well. Either way, it could pay out considerably in the future.

The voices became louder and clearer as Lucy neared the end of the stairs. Stopping to press herself against the inner wall, she hoped the speakers had not detected her presence yet. Her lips flattened into a straight line as she discovered that she could not understand the language being spoken in the chamber. However, she was simultaneously excited and dismayed when she recognized the voice of her employer. _What luck!_ If this turned out to be some momentous information, Lucy thought that she might be able to blackmail her employer into giving her a better position in the household. Played poorly, Lucy realised that she may also be sacked for this impertinence. She frowned as she thought about being separated from Willie.

She turned her thoughts back to the conversation. A feeling of foreboding settled in her gut as she listened to the foreigner speak. Even though she could not understand the words, the gravelly voice spoke in a menacing tone, one that made her want to run back up the stairs as fast as she could. Reluctantly, she stood her ground, convincing herself that this was a unique opportunity that should not be wasted.

Wishing to verify that one of the speakers was truly her employer, and in an attempt to discern the identity of the second voice, Lucy carefully and slowly edged her way to the brink of the stairs. Her stiff uniform made a soft scratching sound as it brushed against the wall, and she gradually skimmed her head along the surface until one eye could freely see into the chamber. Rounding the corner with slow deliberation, her gaze found the familiar figure of her employer, and then focussed beyond to where the foreigner stood. A strangled cry tore from her lips as her eyes widened in horror.

With the heavy realisation that she had just given herself away, Lucy pressed her slim body desperately into the wall, the rough-hewn rock cutting into the soft flesh of her hands. She bit down on her tongue in an effort not to scream aloud, the sight of the foreigner burned into her brain. _This cannot be happening_ , she thought, panic starting to take hold. _HE cannot be real! Surely all those stories in church were just imaginary tales to make people think twice before committing a sin. HE is NOT real!_ Her heart raced in her chest as she struggled to keep from gulping in air too fast. A bead of cold sweat slid down the back of her neck.

Suddenly, she heard it, the deafening sound of silence. With a sharp intake of air, Lucy stopped breathing altogether. Still nothing but silence. _They have stopped talking. They know I am here!_ As stealthily as she could manage, Lucy attempted to ascend the stairs, shuffling sideways, still pressed against the wall. She breathed as much as she dared even though her lungs were burning, and carefully lifted her foot to the next step in order to propel herself up from the one below. This pattern continued for a few more steps and when she thought she was sufficiently clear of the doorway to the chamber to not be seen, she turned fully towards the stairs in anticipation of running back to the pantry.

A blood-curdling scream filled the stairwell and echoed into the chamber as Lucy was yanked backwards by an invisible force. She landed on the stone floor at the bottom of the stairs, bruised and dazed, and when she came to her senses, she launched herself on her hands and knees to scramble away. Distant laughter rumbled from behind, impelling her to escape. Moving forward and scraping her knees in the process, Lucy's thin arm stretched out to touch the bottom-most stair step. Within only mere inches of her goal, her body was dragged backwards again and she slid violently toward the centre of the room with both arms outstretched in a feeble attempt to scrabble for purchase, or anything that might stop her movement.

Her body hit something hard with a dull thud and she was suddenly still. Daring to look behind her, she saw that she was exactly where HE stood. Lucy began to sob in fear and shake uncontrollably. She sat up in attempt to distance herself from HIM.

"Tsk, tsk, what have we here," the other voice asked knowingly. Lucy whipped her head around to face her employer, a hopeful expression clearly discernible by the conjuror. "A young maiden, all alone, creeping about where she is unwanted."

Sighing, her employer crouched down, the pale hand reaching under Lucy's chin to gently lift her head. "Good help is so difficult to find, but do not worry, your sacrifice will not be in vain." Lucy's face fell as she now understood that no succour would come from that quarter.

A deep, evil cackle bubbled up from her employer's throat and echoed in the chamber. HE joined in the laughter and Lucy cried out violently. Sobbing, she could do naught but sit there in abject fear. Seeking some kind of comfort, she thought of her Willie's crooked smile on his handsome face, and then…darkness.

"Let us enjoy this unexpected bounty together," the foreigner clapped his hands together gleefully.

* * *

Tendrils of steam rose in the cool air as Darcy eased his sore body into the hot water. Almost immediately, he felt its soothing effects as his muscles began to relax as he leaned back against the copper tub. Closing his eyes in contentment, he emitted a small outbreath of approval, sliding down until the water lapped at his stubbled chin. The recently lit fire had just started to put out sufficient heat, but he had not been able to wait any longer. Hopefully, the room would be pleasantly warm when he was ready to step out of the tub.

He rode into Market Harborough only an hour past, and had swiftly made his way to the Three Swans Inn from whence his cousin had sent the express detailing the carriage accident in which Georgiana was injured. It was hard to believe that the incident had occurred only yesterday. It had been a harrowing twenty-four hours, and while he still had many unanswered questions he was satisfied that his sister was in no immediate danger from the carriage accident.

Upon his arrival, he queried the innkeeper in the hope of gaining any information related to the current whereabouts of his sister. To his dismay, he learned that the party had left early that same morning, and that the innkeeper could not definitively say in which direction they had travelled. He did, however, assuage Darcy's greatest fears by stating that the "young miss" had walked out of the inn on her own and had not been carried out.

Sitting up, Darcy tested the air, and feeling the warmth of the room was adequate, he stretched for the soap bar sitting on a stool at the side of the tub. He blushed a little as he recalled his earlier encounter with the buxom serving girl who had brought the last bucket of hot water. She bent over the tub and emptied the bucket. The rising steam left a wet sheen across her ample bosom, and her low cut peasant's blouse showed her assets to her advantage. The full meaning of her offer was abundantly clear when she had offered to assist with his bath, reaching to wash the areas that he could not. Darcy was not interested. She was all wrong; she was not Elizabeth.

His thoughts centred on his beloved as he finished bathing, and so engrossed was he in his pleasant thoughts that he only noticed his current surroundings when he began to shiver, bringing forth goose-flesh. Rising from the rapidly cooling water, Darcy reached for his towel and carefully stepped out of the tub drying himself briskly. After pulling on a pair of trousers and his lone clean shirt, he dragged a chair closer to the fireplace and sat, revelling in the heat. The ride across two counties today had left him exhausted and suffering a bone-deep, residual chill.

Darcy forced himself to stay awake and alert as he pondered his newest dilemma: return to Netherfield or ride on to Pemberley? His cousin was as close to him as a brother, and knowing him as intimately as he did, Darcy felt reassured. The Colonel was, without a doubt, a man of unwavering action. His decision-making skills, both summary and resolute, would only have permitted him to consider Georgiana's health first. If his sister had left the inn with her faculties intact, both mentally and physically, then perhaps all was well and Netherfield was their destination.

Making a quick list of the benefits and disadvantages of travelling on to Pemberley versus returning to Hertfordshire, Darcy settled on returning to Netherfield in the morning. If he was wrong, and his cousin had decided to return to Pemberley, he knew his sister would be well-cared for at home. Mrs Reynolds would see to it. Fitzwilliam would send him an express and Darcy could return to Pemberley after a proper farewell to his friends. If he was correct in his assumption, then his reunion with the two most important women of his acquaintance would occur all that much sooner. He smiled softly, anticipating seeing Elizabeth again.

Stoking the fire for the last time, Darcy made his way across the small room and wearily crawled into bed. His last conscious thought was of a pair of fine eyes.

* * *

"Lizzy, what do you think of this dress?"

Elizabeth looked up from the book she was reading and espied her sister across the room, standing in front of the cheval mirror in the bright morning sunlight. Tilting her head to the side, Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before offering, "You look very well, Jane, but I think a bit of complementary colour would be lovely. I have just the thing, too."

Laying her book aside, she walked to the left side of the vanity and opened a drawer that immediately sprang to life with ribbons of all colours and textures spilling out haphazardly. After a few moments, Elizabeth huffed out her frustration as she began to pull ribbon after ribbon out of the drawer. Throwing them in a tangled heap on the bed, she sorted them by colour, and then sat back with her hands on her hips and a frown upon her face.

"Well, that is decidedly odd! Where in the world could that ribbon have gone? I am quite sure that I put it exactly in its place last night before we went to bed."

Looking around the room, Elizabeth's gaze landed on her sister who looked slightly amused. "Jane, do not look at me like that. I am certain that it was put away in the drawer with the other notions."

"Which ribbon is that, Lizzy," the sound of mischief seeping through with the question, "the blue satin that Mr Collins was so _fond_ of on our walk yesterday?"

Elizabeth crinkled her nose in disgust, "Yes, the very same. It will complement the pale yellow of your gown perfectly. You do not think that perhaps Lydia or Kitty filched it, do you? I was sure that the scolding I gave them the last time something belonging to us went 'missing' was severe enough that they would not dare do that again."

Jane giggled at the memory of her youngest sisters gaping and gasping like fish on dry land at Elizabeth's rebuke. "Indeed, there have been no repetitions of _that_ behaviour since."

Humming a low sound indicating her satisfaction, Elizabeth replied, "I shall do a little reconnaissance and see if I cannot recover my ribbon. If I am successful, you shall be wearing it when your Mr Bingley calls on you later today." She chuckled to herself when she noted two patches of rosy red staining Jane's cheeks.

* * *

Mr Bingley did not arrive at Longbourn for a visit that day, much to Jane's disappointment. However, this regret was short-lived or at least put aside, as the Bennet sisters were looking forward to the supper party at their aunt's house that same evening. Kitty and Lydia spoke of nothing but officers in scarlet coats for the entirety of the day, ensuring that no one wanted to be in their company except for Mrs Bennet.

It was at times like this that Elizabeth wished she could escape to the library like her father did. And although she invaded his private sanctuary with regularity, she refused to do so today. Her cousin, Mr Collins, had usurped her as her father's companion and nothing could induce her to be in the same room as he unless it was absolutely unavoidable. Unfortunately, Mr Bennet was not as amenable to this change in companions as Elizabeth was. Anything that kept her out of the notice of Mr Collins and provided respite was most welcome.

With the weather still fine, and weary of the frivolous milieu inside Longbourn, Elizabeth slipped outside for an afternoon walk. The brisk activity helped lighten her mood considerably, but one subject still weighed heavily.

 _How in the world am I to convince Mr Collins that I will make an entirely unsuitable wife? I am sure that Papa will refuse his offer, but what if he doesn't? Papa has never denied me anything, but this may be too much to refuse. How easy it would be, how convenient for him, to know that his family would be provided for upon his death._

Knowing her father's penchant for making, and taking, the easier decisions when problems arose, she was not sure that he would stand up for her desires. She worried the nail of her right thumb between her teeth without thinking as she continued to walk automatically along her daily route.

Reaching her favourite spot, Elizabeth sat on a fallen tree trunk and sighed, her arms supporting her upper body as she leaned back with her face held up to the sky to soak up the sun. Her cousin was oblivious most times, and overbearing the rest. He was also arrogant enough to believe in his own superiority, and secure enough to know that his unfortunate wife must abide by any and all of his rules.

This was also, unfortunately, the law in England. Any idiosyncrasy or oddity of behaviour that could be quelled physically after the wedding would not be a strong enough inducement for him to not offer for her. Husbands could beat their wives with impunity under the law, and although Elizabeth did not believe that her cousin was the type of man who might beat his wife into submission, one never really knew what went on behind closed doors.

Obviously he was not repelled by her stating her opinion so decidedly, nor by her obsession with reading. Again, things that might be curtailed by force after the wedding…she sighed. She continued to study her ponderous dilemma, making mental lists. There were a few things she refused to engage in or even pretend to be engaged in, and so they were "wiped from the slate": promiscuity, drunkenness, and overt rudeness. She could not abide those things in others, and they were such that her reputation would be in tatters, even if they were implied. Her honour was still intact and she wished to keep it that way.

 _It must be something so shocking that he could never accept me as his bride and furthermore, it had to be something that would remain a secret within the family so as to protect all of their reputations._ _I will definitely need to enlist the assistance of my sisters._

Preparing to return home, Elizabeth decided that she needed serious inspiration and made plans to visit her father's library in search of it. Surely there would be something there, in history or in literature, that could be of use to her. Feeling better now that she had a solid objective, Elizabeth's thoughts turned to Mr Darcy.

Neither he, nor Mr Bingley, had come to visit today and this left the eldest Misses Bennet somewhat at a loss. Mr Darcy was so passionate about his feelings for her during their stay at Netherfield. She had been so sure that he would make time to meet her at Oakham Mount in the early mornings but several had come and gone with no such encounters. Jane was even more despondent over Mr Bingley, although only Elizabeth could perceive it, knowing her sister so well.

Of course, they were gentlemen of consequence, Mr Darcy more so than his amiable friend, and as such, they most certainly had business to which they must attend. She reminded herself that Fitzwilliam was in Hertfordshire at his friend's behest in order to assist him in learning estate matters. She should not assign more importance to herself than an old friend who humbly requested his instruction and support.

Elizabeth laughed, gently chiding herself for her foolishness. It had only been a few days since they left Netherfield. The gentlemen would visit soon. She marvelled at how a handsome man could turn one into a ninny so summarily.

* * *

 **(1) Grimoire** : _A grimoire is a textbook of magic, typically including instructions on how to create magical objects like talismans and amulets, how to perform magic spells, charms and divination, and how to summon or invoke supernatural entities such as angels, spirits, and demons. In many cases, the books themselves are thought to be imbued with magical properties._

 _The 18_ _th_ _century saw the rise of the Enlightenment, a movement devoted to science and rationalisation, predominantly amongst the ruling classes. However, amongst much of Europe, belief in magic and witchcraft persisted._ _Governments tried to crack down on magicians and fortune tellers, particularly in France, where the police viewed them as social pests who took money from the gullible, often in a search of_ _treasure. In doing so, they confiscated many grimoires._

 _In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, following the French Revolution of 1789, a hugely influential grimoire was published under the title of the_ Grand Grimoire _, which was considered particularly powerful, because it involved conjuring and making a pact with the devil's chief minister. A new version of this grimoire was later published under the title of the_ Dragon rouge _and was available for sale in many Parisian bookstores. In Britain, new grimoires continued to be produced throughout the 18th century and in the last decades of that century, London experienced a revival of interest in the occult._

* * *

 _ **All characters belong to Jane Austen. Although I have respectfully borrowed quotes and inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, this story belongs to me. All rights reserved.**_


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